Masquerade
by Miss Cullen -I wish
Summary: A freak accident sends Elizabeth stumbling onto Erik's front door beneath the opera. While she's there she might as well try to right a wrong that started with Gaston Leroux oh so long ago. Mentions of E/C, eventual E/OW.
1. Prologue

**Hello there! Anyone? *crickets* Anyway. . .this is a re-write of A Mirror And A Rose which was, to be honest, awful. Pretty much none of the original story remains. There'll be more in-depth details (about which I doubt you care) later.**

* * *

><p>It was a dreary day, not at all like it had promised to be when I'd left the house. I sighed and put my camera back into it's case before starting the half mile hike back to my car. <em>So much for working on my photography.<em> Since I'd graduated last month I had nothing but time on my hands which inevitably caused boredom and drove me from the house.

Rain started falling gently as I pulled out onto the gravel road and headed towards home. It had been unseasonably rainy recently and I hoped dearly another flash flood didn't pop up. At least, not until I was safely home. The rain quickly turned the road to a mess, making it nearly impossible for my little car to make any headway.

"Come on Cavi," I coaxed "just a wee bit farther and we'll be on pavement."

The car gave a violent kick, which meant whatever I was doing was taking too much power. Normally this only happened on random hills but I was driving down a perfectly flat patch of road.

"Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Come on Cavi, don't do this to me. You know I don't have an umbrella!" I started rubbing the dash as if it would help. "Please baby, don't die on me."

I spotted a paved road just ahead but I was afraid I wouldn't even make it there. By the time I finally made it there I was about ready to put my foot out and push. I gladly gave in to my car's demands and pulled off into the parking lot of an abandoned church to wait out the storm.

I was right along side a frequently used country road, so I shouldn't have been shocked to see a beat up red car flying toward me. The rain had ended and I was eager to get out of my stuffy car. Just as I shut the car door I heard a screech of tires on wet pavement. I whipped my head around and really wished I hadn't. That beat up red car was trying desperately to stop before the curve in the road where my car was parked.

I didn't get a chance to scream before I blacked out.


	2. Chapter 1

**Before we begin, I must tell you how I write PotO because it can be a confusing mash-up. Erik has Gerik's mask, a slightly modified Kerik attitude, is built like Kerik but without the health problems, and his disfigurement is a la Lon Chaney only on one side of his face. Christine is ALW's simply because she's the least idiotic, the opera house never burnt, and Erik doesn't live in a cave like Gerik. The rest will reveal itself as we go.**

* * *

><p>The first thing I noticed was cold. It wasn't a dry cold but a wet one which anyone can tell you feels even worse. I groaned and opened my eyes, seeing nothing at first. My eyes adjusted slowly and I could faintly make out a stone wall inches from my face.<p>

I stumbled to my feet, holding my head. My hand came away sticky and covered in something that smelled faintly like blood. I reached out for the wall blindly and nearly jerked back at the odd slime that cover the stone. _But,_ I thought,_ if following it takes me somewhere than I suppose I have no choice. _Against my better judgment I felt my way along the wall until I found myself at the edge of a lake. I shrugged and began wading my way across the lake or rather _around_ the lake.

Eventually I came across a house of some sorts sitting on the bank. My eagerness to be somewhere warm must have drown out my self preservation. I raced up to the door and banged on it fiercely. The door flew open from the inside and all I could make out was a man standing before me.

"Thank god." I whispered before collapsing.

I knew nothing for hours. When I finally came to I was laying on a couch before a roaring fire. As I sat up a blanket fell to around my waist and a dull throb started in my temple. I cradled my hand in my hands, feeling a bandage on one side. A moan slipped past my lips.

"Ah, you've awakened."

I opened my eyes to see a pair of polished black shoes before me. Following them up gave me a towering man in all black with a mask covering half of his face. I snorted and instantly regretted it as the pain in my head doubled.

"What the hell are you, the Phantom of the Opera?"

He drew himself to n impossible height before looking down at me menacingly.

"How did you find this place, Mademoiselle?"

"Uh," I tried to remember how I _had_ gotten here. "I really don't know. The last thing I remember is being about to be creamed by a car."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I was about to be run over. I blacked out and came to out there." I hooked my thumb in the general direction of 'out there'.

"But what were you almost run over by?"

"A car. You know, you put gas in it and you drive around. You. . .don't have any idea what I'm talking about."

He shook his head slightly. I glanced around the room I was in, noticing it was just as outdated as he was. True, it was richly furnished with warm carpets and a deep red on the walls, but it all looked over a century old. The more of his home I took in, the more I felt as if I was the one out of place and not him. It was unsettling.

"You never did tell me who you were." I pointed out.

He stiffened. "Erik Dessler, at your service Mademoiselle."

"Elizabeth Smith." I chewed on my lip briefly. "Tell me, Erik, what year is it?"

"Why, it's 1882."

He walked to me swiftly and pressed a cold hand to my forehead. At the time I didn't register the feel of his hand or the deathly coldness of it. No, all that I could process was the year. Over a hundred a thirty years prior to my life. With a muttered excuse I fled the house.

-E-

It was almost peaceful out here by the lake. There was no breeze to disturb you, no bees to buzz you, but there was also no sunshine to warm your face. I don't know how long I sat on that piece of stone brooding before a blanket was draped around my shoulders. A small smile flitted across my face but it was pointless; he couldn't see it.

Erik settled down next to me, seemingly content with the silence. I doubt he knew that he had been a large part of my brooding. I had no real explanation for how I'd gotten here and for all I knew he and I were alone here. Of course, logic told me there were other people in the place I currently found myself but intuition told me that they couldn't reach us. So many things could happen to me down here without the world knowing. I could be raped and murdered or I could simply exist with the man sitting beside me.

He broke my dark train of thought with a delicate cough.

"Perhaps you should go back in side so you don't catch a chill."

"Take me up there. I need to see."

The tranquil mood between us was broken instantly and I knew I shouldn't have spoken. He was once again the dangerous man who'd kill me as soon as look at me.

"Take you up there?" He growled "Take you up there so you can lead them to the_ monster_, to the_ murderer_?"

"In case you haven't noticed_ I don't belong here_. Where the hell do you think I'm going to go? Beyond that I don't even know how to get back down here. You've got yourself a roommate, Erik."

He watched me closely before tying something across my eyes as a blindfold. I sighed. Honestly, did he think I could really even see? He grasped my elbow lightly and started to lead me through the darkness. That wasn't going to do, I could barley feel him. I grabbed his hand in mine feeling more secure instantly. He stopped suddenly and I could feel his eyes on my face.

"What?"

I didn't get an answer, but I did get a gentle tug on my hand. I followed him blindly through twists and turns, never questioning him. I felt safe so long as his hand was in mine. Never once did he let me stumble, though gravity tried to surge several times. I'm not the most graceful person in the world and being blind certainly didn't help.

It felt like hours later when there was a change in the air. A breeze caressed my face as the blindfold was removed. I opened my eyes slowly to the setting sun and nearly cried. Everywhere I looked I was met with carriages, bustles, and valets. I walked to the end of the niche we were standing in and looked around me. Being a lover of all things French, I instantly recognized the building I was standing next to. The white stone façade reaching high into the sky topped by golden statues on each corner could only be one thing: L'Opéra Garnier.

With a whimper I rushed back to where Erik was turning to leave me. As I clung to his coat sleeve something in my eyes must have told him that I was frightened and he gestured for me to follow him. I _was_ frightened, and not by him. No, was scared me was the fact that I was clearly in a time and place where I didn't belong. Of course, I had known that already but reality had just bitch slapped me out there on the street.

Was reality now turning itself upside down? Had I really been dumped in the Phantom of the Opera's domain, completely at his mercy? For all intents and purposes it looked that way. I once would have said gravity was a heartless bitch, but I must take that title and give it to reality now. Gravity had been demoted to the annoying little sister of the heartless bitch.

"Erik," I said quietly "why are you being so kind to me? If I am to believe you are who you say you are-and it seems I have no choice-then I should be, by all rights, laying dead at the bottom of the lake."

He said nothing, just continued on in stony silence. Perhaps he didn't know the answer himself. I had given up hope of being enlightened to his mind's workings by the time he answered me.

"I suppose I am being kind because you are clearly lost and confused. Despite what certain people may say, I am a gentleman and as such I won't allow a young girl to be left to the stagehands."

I sighed deeply "I guess if Buquet is anything to go by I should be grateful."

* * *

><p><strong>You should know, first off, I'm usually not this fast at updating. However 40 hits in one day did motivate me to stay up until almost one in the morning to finish this. Also, I got all warm and fuzzy inside when I had several reviewauthor alert/story alert/favorite story emails. I like that warm and fuzzy feeling.**

**If anyone is interested all photos that have to do with this (and other stories) are all over on my website: missculleniwish(dot)webs(dot)com. Currently there's only the cover art. If people ask nicely perhaps I'll put Elizabeth as well. (You understand the hesitation in a moment.)**

**Remember those things I mentioned in the prologue that I was going to put in here somewhere? Well, here they are. No need to read them, I'm just saying all this so no one can get mad latter and blow up at me. Elizabeth is myself, just re-named. No Mary Sues here! Why bother re-naming myself if I was going to tell you? I don't care much for my name. It also gives you less to go on if you wanted to stalk me, which I hope none of you do. Or if you do it's fine so long as it doesn't get _creepy_.**

**I did get the original idea for this story from someone else. Who? I've no idea. Can't remember what the story was even called. However, I got permission from the authoress (I remember it was a she) when I first wrote this. I figure it still applies. I'm also doubting I really need it at this point seeing as there are _sooo_ many insertion stories and mine isn't much like hers. However, better safe than sorry.**

**Ummm, I think that's it. Remember say no to drugs, say yes to tacos!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hello my fellow phans! This chapter is a bit wordy, but it was necessary. Sort of. I apologize for the shortness of it, but the silly thing refused to move from my head to the page. Not good this early in a story, I know. And forewarning, I don't write angry Erik very well. But hey, at least he didn't do a tap dance and sing Puttin' On The Ritz. That would've been horribly OOC.**

**As always, reviews are like cookies. The more the better!**

* * *

><p>Time passed strangely in the house by the lake. Had I only been here a week? Two? Ten? I didn't know. Erik did his best to ignore my quirks, but I quickly learned some things he wouldn't live with. The way I spoke was the main problem he had with me. How was I supposed to know words I used daily were, in fact, considered 'coarse language' in this time?<p>

Oh, I could've made the days fly by if I'd had something to do. That was the issue being here, there was nothing for me to pass the time with. I love reading, but the only novels Erik had in English resembled textbooks way too much. Of course there were countless instruments in the house, but the only one I knew how to play was the piano and anything that required both hands-in other words, all piano music-was beyond me. I wasn't ever really actually taught how to play, I knew how to play another instrument and was shown how to play a scale on a piano. From there I taught myself, but I was never one to practice anything. I couldn't indulge in dancing around like an idiot singing for fear of the Angel of Music's wrath. Carlotta made his ears bleed, pah! He had never heard truly terrible singing.

So, much to Erik's annoyance, I spent my days stalking him and going through nearly every belonging he had. He had been sort of fine with my want to scour his mind. That is until he came across me pursing what was apparently his journal. In my defense, I cannot read or speak French so I had no idea what I held. I was simply marveling at his strange handwriting. Would he believe that? No. I hid in the wardrobe of the Louis-Philippe room-where I had taken up residence-for hours while he fumed. When I finally re-emerged he seemed slightly worried about where I had been for several hours and demanded to know where I'd gone. My flippant answer of Narnia completely baffled him.

The only time Erik had left for a long period, he swore never again to do so. He had come home to find me straddling a broom with one of his cloaks tied around my neck throwing around a large red ball. Myself, I still see nothing wrong with this. I was merely passing the time. And I must say, the barrel monkey was a terrible keeper no matter which side you were on.

A faint click resounded through the house despite the thick walls. I stood from where I had been lounging on the Louis-Philippe bed and made my way into the main room. I had only heard that particular click once or twice before, but I could say without question that it came from the front door. Erik's fedora and favorite cloak were missing from their usual spot next to the door, betraying the fact that he had left me alone. Again._ Well,_ I thought,_ I might as well take advantage of his disappearance and go somewhere myself._

It goes without saying that I had snuck out of the house on the lake on a few occasions, but only so far as to find a way to the surface. I didn't want to be dependent on Erik for everything! I slipped into the lilac dress Erik had managed to convinced me to keep-one of the probably hundreds he had bought for my use-and threw a dove grey cloak around my shoulders.

The trip to the surface was quick and dry thanks to my accidental discovery of a way _around_ the lake instead of_ through _it. As I neared the entrance to the Opera's chapel, the sounds of life got a bit louder. Granted the chapel was pretty much abandoned, you could still hear the ballet rats running about. The iron hinges creaked as I swung open the grate that served as a false window.

If I had thought the sounds of the opera house were loud outside the chapel, it was deafening when I reached the main level. I must have become used to the quiet beneath the opera house. Lord, those rats! Didn't they have eardrums? A particularly loud screech echoed from the stage and this one I couldn't blame on the rats. Carlotta in all her. . .glory had returned to the opera.

"Damn that infernal cow!" I swore under my breath.

I had learned from Erik that the Toad had been cast as the lead in this season's opera, _Carmen_. It seemed Mademoiselle Daae had chosen not to return to singing after her 'frightful ordeal'. That right there had convinced me that something wasn't entirely right. Christine not want to sing? It made no sense. The little _engañar _sang more than she spoke.

The thought of something more was what spurred me on and into the dusk. Alright, I will admit that Christine may not want to return to the opera house. It simply struck me as strange. But, I digress.

With a wad of Erik's (ahem) _appropriated _francs in my pocket I hailed a cab and set off for the de Chagny manor. I watched as busy inner city gave way to suburbs before the cab turned into quite the posh neighborhood. The farther down the street I went the gaudier everything around me got. It kind of looked like Kesha had puked glitter all over the place. Not a pretty sight, I assure you.

The cab rolled to a gentle stop at the end of a long gravel drive. The house had an unobstructed view of the road and could be considered beautiful. To me, however, it looked like a fancy hell. The entire property gave the feeling of an emotional neglect even as the candlelight spilling from the windows tried to make it seem welcoming.

I threw a few francs in the driver's direction before making my way around the house. In retrospect, I should have worn darker clothing. I would have made a terrible ninja. A dark shadow, darker than the others, was lurking outside one particular window. Erik. That dumbass couldn't even attempt to leave her be.

With a light sigh, I joined him in looking through into a world both of us didn't belong in, though for different reasons. Mademoiselle Daae-she had no wedding ring-was moping about the ornate parlor. Her dark curls piled atop her head and a large bubblegum pink gown encrusted with diamonds made her look even more out of place. Even at a distance I could tell she was terribly frail.

"She's not happy." I whispered.

"Her Vicomte is not with her." He replied just as quietly.

"Dammit, Erik!" I resisted the urge to smack him "Actually _look _at her. The Fop has nothing to do with it. She has no spirit."

He sighed "This was what she wanted. I thought this life, the _Vicomte_, would make her happy."

"You trusted the moron? Wow. This is the same guy who doesn't even remember his sword when it's part of his masquerade costume."

A snort was his only reply.

Just then, the Fop made his grand entrance. Christine gave him a ghost of a smile, making obvious he wasn't what or who she wanted. He didn't notice, content in the belief that she was happy. In his mind I'm sure he'd set her free, but he hadn't. He only moved her from one cage to a more gilded one.

"Perhaps I could help the two of you."

"What?" His tone made it obvious he thought I had lost it.

"Well. . .neither of you are happy. She doesn't want to be here and you don't want her here or unhappy."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Enlighten me, oh _great one_."

"She fears me. You should follow her example."

"I wonder why!" My voice came out louder than I intended and Christine's head whipped in our direction. "Maybe we should continue this at home?"

The trip back to the house was tense. I could feel Erik's anger at my insolence rolling off him in waves. Well, it would only get worse when I picked my tirade back up. He slammed the door behind us before glaring at me in his intimidating way. So I wouldn't be speaking with Erik, I would be speaking with the Opera Ghost? Very childish.

"How dare you." He spat. "How _dare _you act as if you know the slightest thing about me and my happiness."

"Erik goddamn Dessler, shut the hell up and listen to me!" I shoved him down onto the couch and held him there. "You wonder _why _she fears you? Look at yourself. You have no control over your temper! You lash out without thought at even the most well-meant things."

"If you understood my past-"

I cut him off. "Don't even start with the sob story. I know, trust me, I _know_. Poor little Erik shunned by everyone and beaten. You know what? Your past doesn't govern your present. It's a part of you, you can't escape that. There are people in the world that you should never attempt to trust and then there are people who try to help you. Giovanni, Nadir, Madame Giry, Christine, myself. We all have your best interests at heart."

"Of course you do." He sneered and stood, towering over me.

"Giovanni took you in. Nadir allowed you to escape and lost everything to keep you alive. Madame Giry has hidden you here in the opera house. Do you know _why_ Christine did what she did? She unmasked you in front of the entire audience during _Don Juan Triumphant _to make you realize the danger you were in. She saved your life."

"And you? How are you trying to help _poor Erik_?"

"I'm trying to help you be happy, you idiot! You have _got _to learn to listen. Not to just what people say, but to what they don't say as well. You are a ruthless bastard, you know that? Deathly attractive and alluring, but a bastard none the less."

His laugh was cold and without humor. It chilled me to the very bone. Suddenly I realized just how far over the line I had gone and was frightened. What had I been thinking? I didn't know this man, not really. I was no more than the mouse to his cat. Something to play with in times of boredom.

"Now you fear me, Mademoiselle? How very wise of you. Perhaps you have grown a sense of self preservation since you came here."

Fear him? No, I didn't fear him. I feared his uncontrollable anger. So I did what any sane person would do. I turned and walked straight into my bedroom, locking the door behind me. Let him be with only himself for awhile. Maybe he would see the sense in what I had said.


	4. Chapter 3

****First off, I wanted to say something to an anonymous reviewer, 15-in-Jan: I apologize for the, ah, cursing in the last chapter that upset you. I personally have a coarse language when angry and forget that not everyone does. I will try to pick my words more carefully. I don't want to offend anyone! If I say anything else that bothers you, please let me know.****

* * *

><p><em>Oh god, what have I done?<em> The longer I sat in my room the more the thought repeated itself. I could be a complete idiot sometimes. Erik's anger was palpable, seeping through the walls to infect my every thought. I wasn't sure how worried I should be seeing as I didn't have his music to judge with. The entire home was deathly silent but I knew he was still there. Somehow, I knew.

After hours of pacing my stomach convinced me I had hid long enough. I felt the need to arm myself with whatever was at hand but I forced myself not to. How on earth was I supposed to get Erik to trust me if I didn't appear to trust him? And I did trust him in a way. Despite the weeks together I didn't know this particular Erik enough to trust him with my life, but I did trust him not to murder me. A paradox, I know.

I cracked the door and glanced out. There was no sign of Erik anywhere. I scurried down the hall to the kitchen as silently as possible. No need to wake a sleeping bear, as it were. I was just pushing the kitchen door open when I heard it. It was small, quiet, and muffled but there none the less. A sob. The entire atmosphere in the house changed and the anger evaporated as if it had never been there.

Standing in the hall with a hand on the door I debated what to do. Ignore Erik and leave him to himself? That was more than likely what he wanted. Or should I go to him and try to fix what my rant had done? My humane side told me to do just that. But it would entirely defeat the purpose if I undid anything my rant had done. With a sigh I padded farther down the hall to the one room I had never ventured.

Erik's bedroom gave off a cold and completely uninviting feeling. Swaths of black fabric hung from the walls and the stage was set for a funeral. The coffin in the center of the room completed the look. However none of this captured my interest; the form curled in a ball on the floor did. Oh, what had I done to him? Was this all because of my thoughtless words or something more? I resolved to find out.

I took a step toward him and gave my presence away. His yellow cat eyes snapped to me before he attempted to shuffle as far from me as possible. Well, I wasn't having that! Striding toward him purposefully I knelt and grabbed his jaw lightly, forcing him to look at me. He was ashamed that I was seeing him this way and tried to avert his eyes. His eyes; they were more expressive than he could have realized. There was a deep-rooted pain and anger which was nothing new, but they seemed to be directed inward.

Grabbing his wrist I tugged him into the kitchen behind me. He settled down at the small table and a stern glance ensured he'd stay there. Off the kitchen was a small room that wasn't hooked up to the strange heating system in the rest of the house so it was always the perfect temperature to serve as a fridge. Through that room was one that was even colder-granted, it was helped along by large blocks of ice near the ceiling-that functioned as a freezer. It was from this room that I grabbed a large wooden bucket Erik knew nothing about.

"Erik, I don't know why you're all angsty but we're going to deal with this my way." I said, plopping the bucket and a spoon down before him.

He looked at the brown-ish slurry in the bucket before raising an eyebrow at me.

"Ok, so it doesn't look the best but it tastes fine!" He just stared at me "What? It's homemade chocolate ice cream."

The spoon remained on the table top and he gave the bucket a shove away from him. I sighed. Grabbing the spoon I scooped out a bit of ice cream and held it out for him. He simply stared at it.

"Come on Erik!" I said in a child-like voice. "Here comes the train! Chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-chug choo-choo!"

I held the spoon less than an inch from his lips but he did nothing. The spoon bumped gently against his lips but he just shoved my hand away. He was impossible! Shrugging I ate the bite of half melted ice cream myself. Perhaps if I could get a smile or something he would stop acting like a stone.

"Come come young grasshoppah." I said in a terrible Japanese accent. "It's aaah an-chint Japah-nese secret. You aaah eat tha ice-ah cream and you aaah feel much bettah."

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I racked my brain for anything that he might find remotely funny or humorous. Then it hit me and I rushed from the kitchen. I knew just what I wanted and where to find it. Hidden in the back of a vanity drawer was a terrible secret, one I doubted Erik had the slightest idea of. It was something of Christine's that she had brought down and frankly I was frightened she even had the thing. It creeped me out so much when I first saw it that I shoved it to the farthest corner of the drawer and swore to never venture in that drawer again.

Grabbing the offending bit of cloth and a small string I came back into the kitchen with a smile on my face. All I had to do was turn the bit of cloth in my hand around and Erik's eyes took on a mischievous light. Oh yes, Christine had a Raoul doll in her vanity. I handed him the doll and quickly tied a slip knot into the string before handing it to him as well. Would that awful doll be dead beyond reason when Erik was done with it? Without a doubt. Would Erik be in a considerably better mood afterwards? You have no idea.

When I returned from putting the untouched bucket of ice cream away Erik was still exactly where I had left him. The only thing that had changed was the doll now had the small noose around it's neck. He looked up at me like he expected me to get upset because he'd killed the thing.

"Erik, you really need to take out your frustrations on that stupid doll."

"I have no frustrations." He murmured.

"Then what the hell is your problem?" I exploded. "Was it something I said? Tell me! I can't help if I don't know what the issue is."

"No, no you were right in everything you said. I don't listen to people, not really. I assume everything is spurred by a horror of me or spite."

"And you have every right to." I said gently. "Life has given you nothing else."

I sat in the chair next to him and laid a reassuring hand on his sleeve. He looked at that small gesture with wonder before searching my face for any sign of repulsion.

"You won't find it. The only thing about you that repulses and frightens me is your anger."

"I'm always angry so I always repulse you."

"Erik," I growled. "that's what I'm talking about! You warped what I said to suit your own opinion. Why can't you understand that I can see past your attitude problems?"

He looked at me from the corner of his eye before going back to staring a hole into the table top. Did I need to draw a picture for him to get what I was saying? I may not have crayons but I could do my best. The instant I opened my mouth he jumped up and strode from the room. Would he always run from what he didn't want to hear?

With a sigh I followed him through the house into the music room where he started pounding out melodies on the piano. Why did he always have to hide behind his music? Granted music made it easier to read his emotions it was still kind of annoying. At this very moment, however, it was less annoying and more helpful. The music had a haunting quality about it; sad with a bit of repressed anger. And yet, nothing about the notes coming from his fingertips made sense. His music was just as confused as he was.

"Will you _please_ tell me what's running through that head of yours?"

He made no move to answer me but the notes pouring through the room grew quieter. Well at least I had his attention.

"Erik," I sighed. "it's time to end this before it gets worse."

His fingers stumbled to a stop. "End what, Elizabeth?"

"The awkwardness you force into this house. Do you want me to be completely honest with you? I will if you ask."

"Honesty is cruel." He scoffed.

"Honesty can be cruel, I'll give you that. But honesty can also be beautiful and liberating at times. Ask when you're ready."

-E-

A good day and a half passed without a word between Erik and I. Actually, I hadn't even seen or heard a sign of him the entire time. I assumed he'd left to haunt the opera house for awhile and settled in to draw several potato-headed stickmen. Yes, I meant potato-headed. It was while attempting to draw a person-I stress attempting-that Erik finally showed up.

"You. . .said I would get honesty if I asked."

"And you want it?"

He nodded tensely. Clearly this went against his every instinct and his better judgment.

"Very well," I sat down the pencil and turned to face him. "I'll tell you exactly what I think of you. I think you're beautiful in that split-second you let your walls disappear. The rest of the time I want to smack you stupid."

His head snapped up from studying the carpet. Did he really think I was going to hit him? And here I thought he was starting to trust me.

"I'd never hit you, Erik. Well at least I can't foresee me hitting you anytime soon."

"Why would you want to hit me?" He winced the instant the words slipped out.

"Because you can be more immature than my four year-old cousin." I said matter-of-factly. "Theoretically I know you're just a scared little boy inside, but it's difficult to remember that when you're being a dick. Which you are half the time. A ruthless, heartless, dick."

"And this is your opinion of me?" He asked coldly.

"No, that is my opinion of the Opera Ghost with whom I've spent most of the time I've been here. You, on the other hand, I like to be around more. You're a caring man, Erik, whether you admit it or not. You letting me stay here is proof enough. It's nice to be around someone who doesn't fake who they are."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well," I hesitated trying to decided how much to tell him. "where I'm from no one is ever who they really are. Everyone wears mask upon mask to hide their true selves so no one really knows anyone. It's frustrating. But you, you who are forced to wear an actual mask, you never pretend to be someone you're not."

He paced the room, more than likely confused by what I'd said. I sighed. He asked for honesty so he got it, the only problem being it was impossible for anyone here to understand me. I still hadn't explained to Erik how I ended up here and frankly I didn't have the slightest idea how to go about it. I know I should have told him ages ago but what was I supposed to do if he threw me at because I was a 'crazy person'? Hop on a boat to America and find my great-great-great grandparents? Yeah, I'll get right on that.

"Erik, what do you want from me?" I asked suddenly.

He jerked to a stop "What do I want from you? I believe the appropriate question would be what do_ you_ want from _me_?"

"I don't want anything from or of you. Well, I take that back to an extent. I want you to speak to me like I'm your equal even though I'm really not. You're a gentleman but I'm no gentleman's daughter. You're a musician, a composer, a magician, an architect, and an artist. I'm barley enough of a musician to warrant the title, my attempts at composing anything result in massive headaches and maybe two notes, my magic tricks include showing the strength of gravity, my houses look like a three year old drew them, and I can't draw a straight line.

You speak so many languages and all I've got is botched English. You've traveled all over and I've never left America-I don't count how I got here as leaving the country. You're a genius, Erik. I may be smarter than the average bear but I feel like an imbecile next to you." I sighed. "Just. . .teach me Erik. I don't want to feel like such a moron anymore. Do that for me and I'll do what I can to help you. I'll help you with whatever you want me to, anything but killing someone."

"Teach you? And what, prey tell, do you plan to learn from me?" He sneered. "There is nothing you can learn from me, it's all over your head."

I jumped to my feet and my hand rose of it's own accord to bitch slap him. I just managed to stop it halfway to his face. His eyes were wide with shock and an anger that was slowly building at my action.

"Next time you insult my intelligence, " I seethed. "I won't stop myself from slapping you. Just because I'm not a guy doesn't mean I'm an idiot. There are probably a few things _I_ could teach _you_, you pompous ass."

"Don't ever attempt to strike me. It would be the last thing you'd do."

"Bullshit. You're too much of a gentleman to harm a woman. Only one woman has died directly because of you and another indirectly. It's not the harem girl that haunts you, though, is it? You couldn't really care less about her, could you? No, it's _her_ that follows you. _Her_ death you replay in your dreams over and over again. The horrified look, the desperate flight, the stonework crumbling beneath her weight, her scream-"

"Stop!" He franticly covered his ears, trying to block out my voice.

"You know who I mean, Erik!"

"No," He moaned.

"You can't forget her. She was your first love, wasn't she? You loved her beauty. You were only fifteen when you watched her die in front of you. Watched her die because of you, because of your anger." He was hunched over moaning and I bent down so my lips were at his ear. "_Luciana_."

* * *

><p><strong>So. . .um. . .tada? Honestly, that wasn't where I had been planning to head with this chapter but Erik's being all angsty and refusing to do anything else. One must appease one's characters, I guess. At least I got something set up that I needed to.<strong>

**Originally I told one of you who was confused that this was an E/C phic. Well, as I stared at this chapter I started thinking. Maybe it should be an E/OW phic instead. It could still go either way and frankly I'm fine with both. And so, I came to the conclusion to just ask you all.**

**So which would you prefer? Do you want Erik and Christine to go all happy-skippy-jumpy through life together? Or would you like to see the slightly more difficult road of Erik and Elizabeth? Because, let's face it, they'll probably be at each other's throats half the time. But that might liven things up a bit. Who knows?**

**We're slowly approaching the time for the final decision but it's still a few chapters away. For now this will be left listed as an E/C. If you all don't really care (which is fine) I'll flip a coin or something. I just wanted to give you a chance to tell me which you would like.**


	5. Chapter 4

**There really are no excuses for how long this took me to get up. I just get easily distracted. I'll save all of my unnecessary talking for the end.**

* * *

><p>I think I pushed Erik too far last night. The Angel of Death had taken over and I fled the house. Let me tell you something,, you see some strange sights when wandering the opera house in the wee hours of the morning. I'd been shocked to find just how late it was when I got to the surface; apparently the lack of daylight screwed with your biological clock.<p>

The longer I sat in the flies the more I hated myself. Since I had come here I had been nothing but a bitch and I hated it. I normally wasn't this bad, honestly. It was just. . .Erik. He gets on my nerves like none other with his I'm-better-than-everyone act. I can't help it but people like that have always annoyed me. I vowed to stop letting him get to me so easily. I know he's not vain, he's just aloof.

With a heavy sigh I forced myself to climb down from my perch. Being as it was so late I didn't bother even trying to hide as I made my way to the chapel. This was, in retrospect, a very bad idea. I wasn't half a dozen paces away from the chapel when someone gasped behind me. I jerked to a stop and spun around. The brunette let out a shaky breath and sagged against the wall.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" I asked quietly.

"Je suis désolée?"

"Oh, um," I tried to scrape together my minimal French. "parlez-vous anglais?"

"Un peu."

I took that to mean 'a little' since she didn't give me a non or oui.

"I apologize for frightening you." I made an effort to slow down my speech. "Are you alright?"

"I. . .am well." She whispered "Who are you?"

"No one important." I said a bit too quickly. "If you are sure you're alright, I must be on my way."

I swept into the chapel quickly and ignored her cries for me to wait. The instant the metal grate shut behind me I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. What on earth was Christine Daae doing here? This would seriously put a damper on my tentative plans.

I filed the encounter away for future perusal and trudged my way home. Yes, I did consider the house by the lake as my home now. I stopped at the shore of the lake to revel in the peace before I put myself at the mercy of Erik's wrath. The water lapped gently against the shore and I wondered for the thousandth time why the water was always moving. There must have been an underground river that fed it somewhere. Even though I couldn't see the house I could feel his displeasure rolling across the lake in waves. This wasn't going to be fun.

I had just hung up my cloak when he appeared. Anger, hatred, and loathing were what I expected but not what I received. No, I was met with a cold aloofness. That alone frightened me more than his anger. I would lay money on the fact that nothing I would say to him in the next hour or so would sink in. Fan-freakin-tastic.

He opened his mouth to start but I held up a finger to stop him as I settled onto the settee. This was going to take awhile and one might as well be comfortable. When I looked up at him expectantly, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Pure shock was written across his face as if no one had ever shushed him before. The idea was ludicrous.

With another chuckle I waved for him to begin. It seemed, however, he'd completely forgotten what he had been going to say. A speechless Erik was a rare sight indeed. He shook his head and sat down heavily in the chair across from me.

"So where are we Erik?" I asked after a moment. "You're upset with me and I feel awful. What now?"

"And what do you feel awful about?"

I don't think he was trying to sound like a psychiatrist but it certainly came across that way. I think he was just honestly curious.

"For. . .yelling at you so much. It seems like we've been at each other's throats since I came here. It's refreshing to have someone to verbally spar with but it's getting out of hand."

"I'm not an easy person to live with." He sighed deeply. "I've started the arguing just as much as you have. You were right, I'm too sensitive at times."

"Sensitivity isn't bad, Erik. It shows you're human." I chewed on my lip for a moment, thinking. "So, we agree to try to stop arguing so much?"

I stuck my hand out toward him but he didn't move. He looked at the offered hand uneasily, like one would eye a wolf. It's not like my hand would bite him and I doubted he was kinky enough to_ like _being bit. He reached out to tentatively shake my hand and I felt a bit of shock. Erik hadn't touched me skin to skin-he made very sure not to-since that first day when I had fainted, and I'd assumed he'd be cold. I mean, after all, in every adaptation that was one of the few consistent things about him; he was cold to the touch.

"Yes, I suppose we can agree to that." He gave me a hard look. "But I will still tell you if you're being irrational and immature."

"And I'll take it upon myself to point out when you're being an insufferable jerk."

He smiled a little then and I beamed at him. His walls were coming down, slowly but surely. If only he would leave them down altogether. I sighed mentally. I knew that would never happen, Erik had been hurt too many times.

"Do you care for me at all, Erik?" His visible eyebrow raised. "Or, rather, do you care if I live or die?"

He thought for a moment before giving me a decisive "Not in the slightest."

I facepalmed in frustration. I knew he was lying and he had to know I did. What person let someone they didn't really know live with them if they didn't care if said roomie died or not? Well if he was going to deny it, I'd play along. To a point, at least. He may not care about me, but I couldn't help but care for him; after all I had grown up knowing his alias. Really no one in the educated world didn't know of The Phantom of the Opera and didn't connect a masked man playing an organ with the Phantom.

As he floated from the room I thought of something. Perhaps. . .perhaps I could show him that I did care in my own little way. Really, I had been holding back my inner phan the entire time I had been here. I knew much more of Erik than he could even guess; Monsieur Leroux and Miss Kay made sure of that. That being said, I knew what Erik had wanted most all of his life. All he wanted, all he'd ever wanted, was to be _normal_. Inadvertently I had given him a bit of that already.

I had never asked about the mask-there was no point when I knew anyway-and I had treated him how I would treat anyone. I argued with him, I talked with him, I simply sat with him. I wasn't going to unleash my inner phan but I was going to give him another gift based off of that knowledge. Erik had mentioned or alluded to the fact that he wanted to be able to walk down the street without being stared at countless times. Well, that could be arranged.

-E-

The next several days passed in what would have been a music montage if life were really a movie. The music you ask? Probably some over-used '80s song, but it didn't matter. By the end of the week I had stabbed my fingers more than I could count, sworn so frequently and loudly that Erik had taken to shoving cotton balls in his ears, and been cross-eyed more than not. But, the ends justified the pain!

My next problem was getting Erik where I needed him when I needed him. Getting Erik to go out in broad daylight? Well that was harder than it sounded, and it sounded hard enough to begin with. Any idea I thought of came with a million reasons it wouldn't work. I would never succeed in luring him to the surface, overpowering him was a laughable thought, and nothing I could ever do would force him out. Even if I did get him to the surface, I'd never get him to walk down the crowded street. No, my only option was to simply tell him what I was doing. _That'll be fun._

My first problem was getting Erik to admit he wanted to walk down the street at not be gawked at; this took countless hours of pestering. Next I had to convince him that his wish could become reality. That one was a bit harder, taking a full three days to accomplish. I couldn't count how many times I probably came close to being Punjabbed because I simply wouldn't leave him alone.

Almost two weeks after my plan had been hatched, Erik grudgingly made his way to the surface with me. I held back a smile, even though I knew he couldn't see it due to the hood of my cloak. I drew said hood a bit more forward; Erik couldn't know what I looked like until it was absolutely necessary. He was going to have a cow when he saw me, so to speak. It's not that I had done something to drastically alter my appearance, I just wasn't what was considered properly dressed. Far from it, in fact.

I had lost a bit of weight while living with Erik (I had already been slimming down when I ended up on his doorstep), mostly because there was no fried food here and because he had started locking anything carb-related away from my searching hands. I hadn't turned into a twig, I had too many different cultures in me to ever be that skinny. No, I was cursed with a squashed hourglass figure, wide hips, a booty, and a bust that would tip me over if it weren't for my ass balancing me out. If I had even half an ounce of confidence I probably could have been considered sexy, but I didn't see myself that way. That being said, I was going way outside of my comfort zone to do this for Erik.

The Rue de Scribe entrance loomed before us and I heaved a sigh. _Well, there's no going back now. _I lowered my hood and ran a hand over my hair to make sure it still looked sleek. I met Erik's incredulous eye with a steely determination. He had never seen me with anything more than a bit of eyeliner and now he was seeing me looking like a pinup girl. It couldn't be denied, my Native American features and cupid bow lips made the look work for me. I tossed Erik's wide-brimmed fedora to the side and unhooked his cloak so it floated to the ground.

"_What_ are you _doing_?" He finally asked.

"If I'm going out there without my cloak to hide under, you don't get to either. I told you I'd make it so you could walk down the street without being stared at and this is that time." His wide panicked eyes locked with mine. "Don't worry, I'm not going to force you to go out there mask-less; that's your choice. I will force you to walk behind me down that street with your head held high, though."

I stepped away from him and slipped my cloak off. He let out a strangled sound and hurriedly melted into the shadows. Perhaps I had gone a bit too far? I was wearing an off-nude corset, a skirt of the same color slit wide up to my hip, sheer smoky stockings, black opera gloves, and black lace up boots. Both the corset and skirt had matching large-patterned black lace adorning them., to break up the solid color.

Hopefully Erik's reaction meant I wouldn't have to unleash my secret weapon: a skirt that was held on by two little clasps under the edge of my corset. I grabbed Erik's coat sleeve and dragged him back out of the shadows. In the light, it was easy to see he was 'all hot and bothered' as they say.

"Saint Erik, patron of sexually impoverished madmen everywhere!"**[1]**I laughed. "Do you think anyone will notice your mask with me walking down the street in front of you?"

I finally met his eye and was a bit taken aback but what I saw there. I mean, it was obvious from the careful way he was standing that he was. . .well, clearly trying to suppress his desire. But in his eyes the lust ran free and seared me. I felt myself blush scarlet and cursed my innocence. I had never in my eighteen years had anyone lust after me or even remotely look at me in that way. Then again, I lived in t-shirts and jeans so much people were shocked when I wore anything fitted or a skirt.

With a twitch of my skirts I resolutely put myself in the frame of mind that this was a dream. An elaborate, believable dream. If I convinced myself none of this was real, I would be able to pretend I was full of the confidence I lacked._ No,_ I thought with a frown_ this was no dream. I've never had a dream with Erik in it that he did not sing and he has yet to do so._ I couldn't convince myself this was a dream, but maybe I could convince myself that I was someone else entirely. But who? The answer hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Dita Von Teese."

Yes, Dita would do nicely. I had styled this outfit after one she had worn, after all.

"Who?"

I started. I didn't realize I had spoken aloud.

"Dita Von Teese is a self-described celebrated stripper where I'm from. She's a burlesque dancer, really, but I do have a certain fondness for her."

"A what dancer?"

"You've never heard of burlesque?" I gave him a wicked grin "I'll have to take you to the Moulin Rouge when it opens."

With another pat to the hair I pulled Erik out into the alcove that hid the Rue de Scribe entrance. I'd never understood how anyone could obviously miss the thing, but it worked to my advantage this time. There wasn't a dramatic freeze in time when I stepped out on the street. People continued to bustle by and I had just started to worry a bit when I was finally noticed. A young girl, no more than twelve, was the first to notice me. She tugged her mother's skirts, pointing at me and saying something quickly. Her mother glanced in my direction before doing a double take to stare at me. After that it was maybe thirty seconds before everyone around had noticed me.

I smirked at a particularly scandalized elderly woman before sauntering down the street. The crowd parted around me with stares and I knew why Erik hated going out in public. Being stared at like this, it was awful. I was glad it was me being stared at instead of Erik though.

I glanced back to be sure he had followed me and I wasn't looking like a five-star whore for nothing. He was there, at the edge of the bubble around me, looking for all the world like he did this all the time. Not one person had noticed there was anything different about him and he knew it. Did I detect a sparkle of happiness in his eye? Yes, yes I think did.

But I still didn't have all the attention, a few eyes were starting to stray in Erik's direction. I peeled one glove off slowly and tossed it at a passing gentleman; the next one met with a young nobleman never to be seen again. That move gained me only a few more eyes, some still slid slowly toward Erik. _Well, I suppose I have to use my secret weapon.  
><em>  
>I stopped in the middle of the street and ran both hands down my sides to rest on my hips. Being sure I had everyone's attention I slowly unhooked the clasps holding my skirt to my corset. I unwrapped the skirt slowly holding one end to my hip and peeled it away to reveal the full length of my clearly-American legs. I playfully tossed my skirt at Erik, sure that he wouldn't let it be lost.<p>

Suddenly a hand clamped on my upper arm and a uniformed man was shouting French at me. I looked, panicked, to Erik but he was gone. As I felt metal clamp around my wrists it clicked with me what was happening. I was being arrested.

* * *

><p><strong>[1]<strong>Like Everybody Else Ch. 5, the daroga (Here on FF)

**Dita Von Teese: Hmm, well this is going to sound pervy no matter how I put it. I'll just throw it out there, yeah? I enjoy her acts, even if she does end up naked. I don't like watching strippers (frankly it creeps me out) but Dita makes it look like an art form, which it kind of is. So, um, yeah. . .I'll put photos of the outfit I tried to recreate for Elizabeth up. No worries, Dita's clothed. . .mostly.  
><strong>  
><strong>As for the pairing, you guys rock! I honestly did want to do EOW but I was going to write whichever my readers wanted. I don't think a single person said E/C. WIN! Although it should be noted that I have three very unhappy Eriks trying to kill me (in my head, which is weird), three very happy Raouls, and three discontented-no-matter-what Christines. It's interesting.  
><strong>  
><strong>The Moulin Rogue: I've mentioned it and fully plan on screwing with the time line a bit so Elizabeth can introduce Erik to brulesque. Mwahahaha! -Ahem- If you've never heard of The Moulin Rogue I wouldn't be surprised. The first thing that probably comes to mind (if anything) is the movie, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the glorified gentleman's club in Paris. Ok, technically it's a cabaret but they lean heavily on the seduction part. Or at least did in the beginning.<strong>**  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 5

**OH MY GOD _FAIL!_**

**A reviewer pointed out that I said Superman was Dick Clark. I do know he's Clark Kent. Really, I do. Just clearly I don't think when typing. You're getting another update because I cannot let my moment of epic stupidity stay here. If anyone notices I do something like this again _for the love of god please tell me._**

* * *

><p><strong>This is barely enough to call a chapter, but I had to get<em> something<em> out for you guys. I just recent quit my job (yay!) but classes start tomorrow so I don't know when I'll have time to write. I swear to you I'll do what I can**  
><strong>Oh, and cookies to anyone who gets the first thing Elizabeth says.<strong>

* * *

><p>"Voldemort's nipple!" I swore as the guard walked away.<p>

And here France was supposed to be the nudist-friendly country! But, _no_. I was currently sitting on a hard wooden bench while the other inmates ogled me. The least they could have done was give me a cloak to wrap up in; it was bloody cold in here! The instant the outer door clicked shut the man in the cell next to me started beckoning to me and saying something. I may not know French but it wasn't hard to figure out the gist of what he was saying considering what I was wearing. A well aimed slop bucket was enough to shut him up and keep the others from following his lead.

After probably less than an hour another guard came in, opened the door to my cell, and waved for me to follow him. He lead me into a less populated area and handed me a tattered cloak before sticking me in another cell. I gave him a grateful smile before settling down on the bench. There wasn't much to do but stare at the dirt floor and wait, so that's what I did.

Slowly the snores grew in number until I was the only one still awake. It was just after sundown and very little light from the streets filtered in through the narrow windows. I sighed heavily. Where was Batman when you needed him? He would've broke in and saved me before two hours had gone by. The door to my cell creaked open and I looked up slowly from the spot on the floor I'd been staring at.

"Dark clothing, cape, mask," I rasped. "I'd call you a good Batman substitute. The only thing you're missing, really, is a Batmobile and a Robin for me to glomp."

I always did have a soft spot for Robin. But my own real life Erik-Batman? No one would catch me saying no to that or, rather, him. Erik helped me up before handing me my skirt and cloak. We waltzed right out the front door and down the street without one person batting an eye.

"What's Batman?" He asked.

"Oh, um, Batman is a superhero where I'm from. You know, runs around saving people from danger and stopping criminals? Most superheroes wear a mask to hide their true identities, Superman's the only one I know of who doesn't wear a mask but he wears glasses when he's being Clark Kent."

"And you think I'm one of these superheroes?"

"At times you can be and then you do a complete one-eighty on me and become the supervillain. But I think your natural tendency is toward the superhero role."

"Ah." He said. "And where are you from exactly? You keep simply saying 'where I'm from' after mentioning things that don't makes sense or exist."

I jerked to a stop "Well. . .I've mentioned I'm American, haven't I?" Shit! "Any more than that you wouldn't believe or you'd think I was nuts and have me locked up."

"Try me." He said shortly.

"Erik, I really don't want to go into this in the middle of the street."

"I do and so we are."

"Oh mon dieu, fine!" I huffed "The day I came here I had been out taking pictures. My car-think motorized carriage-wasn't liking the road I was on so I pulled over to let it rest. I'd gotten out of my car and there was another car coming down the road toward the curve I'd pulled off of. The other car was going way too fast and couldn't make the turn. I blacked out before I was hit and woke up in the cellars." He stared at me stonily "The day that happened was June thirtieth. The, ah, the year was. . .two thousand and eleven." I squeaked.

"So you're trying to tell me you came from the future?"

"Pretty much."

He was silent for a moment, and then "You're right, I don't believe you."

"Didn't expect you would, Erik. Didn't expect you would."

It was close to two days before he even broached the subject again, and then it was just to demand proof that I couldn't give. I had nothing but my clothing which was annoying at times; I could have at least played Pac-Man on my phone once in a while. But, I digress.

In lieu of substantial proof he seemingly accepted answers to his questions; questions I considered completely mundane and/or irrational._ Is there a cure for consumption_? Yes but they don't really work. And it's called TB or tuberculosis. _Has the electric light fad died off yet?_ Nope, no one uses candles anymore. _What of that new thing trying to take off, indoor plumbing?_ Very few places in the educated world don't have indoor plumbing.

_How are the operas there?_ Uh, there aren't any really. _What? No operas?_ There's this thing called television where you can watch shows anytime you want so no one goes to the theater. _So there are no theaters anymore?_ Well there are, but not that many. Most schools put on little plays and musicals but beyond that I've never seen a theatrical production. _Have any vampires been discovered? I'd like to study one._You're joking, right? (He wasn't.) Yes. They all sparkle in the sun, skip through flowers, are homosexual, and go by the name Edward Cullen. If you ever meet said vampire you must cut its head off immediately and burn it.

I really hoped he didn't meet a Edward Cullen because he didn't seem to get that I was joking. Although, honestly, if he did and he took my advice I would probably laugh hysterically for a good while before I went about trying to fix his screw up. I did feel bad for calling Cullen gay though; I'm pretty sure they don't want him either.

Erik eventually came to accept what I'd told him, if not completely believe it. After that little things started showing up on the vanity in my room and at first I brushed it off with the excuse that I'd simply forgotten I'd had them at the time of the accident. When a photo of myself and several friends greeted me one morning I was forced to admit that somehow my things were being transported to me here; it sounded like something out of a bad fanfic.

"Are you ever going to get up, Elizabeth?" Erik asked from the door.

I looked up at met his gaze in the mirror, my eyes swimming with tears.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, laying a hand on my shoulder comfortingly."I just miss them, you know?" I looked down at the photo in my hands. "They're my friends and I told them everything. We had so much fun together and would laugh about the strangest things."

"Had?"

"Well they're not here, are they? Unless you're hiding them in a cupboard somewhere."

"Do you mind introducing me?" He perched on the edge of the vanity, looking down at the group of people.

And so I introduced him to people in a photo. Franky on the left in a clown wig, Caleb pretending to molest her (he was gay), Adrian wearing her homemade Qaadi shirt (an inside joke), Andrew blushing from an inside joke about beavers undoubtedly, and myself laughing. In looking at the group of us through Erik's eyes we were quite the freaks and none of us would have it any other way.

"They certainly are unique."

"Yeah, we were outcasts really but we had a helluva time." My smile dimmed a bit "I haven't really had any fun since the last time we were together."

He frowned. "Are you not happy here, Elizabeth?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose I am. I never want for music or literature with you, Erik. I just. . .I miss being able to joke around and laugh. On the rare occasion I crack a small joke you scowl at me and twist my words into something negative towards you."

"I probably am not the easiest person to joke with, you're right." He sighed "But I shall try to be better about that, if only to make you happier here."

"Sir!" I said in mock shock "Do my ears deceive me or did you just admit to caring about me happiness?"

"If only so I don't have to listen to you whine about being miserable."

I opened my mouth to berate him for being cruel when I met his eye. There was a strange glint in his eyes that I had never seen there before. It was almost as if. . .

"Why Erik, I do believe you just made a joke!"

His lips curved into a tiny smile before he glided out of the room. To say I was puzzled would be an understatement. Was this the real Erik, eager to enjoy the company of an equal? And, dear lord, did he think me that equal? Or was he just trying to make me happier here in his home? I could say without a doubt that I hoped he was opening up, if only a little, and taking down some of the walls he had built around himself.

He didn't seem the type to try to change who he was for anyone. No, he hadn't done that for Christine so he certainly wouldn't do so for me. After all, Erik _had_ been in love with Christine so it was more likely he'd change for her._ But,_ I wondered suddenly_ what if he really wasn't in love with her? What if the Fop got it right when he said Erik was obsessed with her?_ I didn't want to believe it-my inner phangirl rebelled against the very idea-but it would make sense. Erik falling in love with Christine's beauty and her voice? I could see that. But Erik falling in love with _Christine _herself? It didn't make much sense. The girl was an idiot, plain and simple.

It was with a plan in mind that I began reading myself for the day. I would figure out what it was that Christine had that drew Erik like a moth to a flame. And what better way to do that than to pal around with the girl? Granted I would probably end up wanting to strangle her but I would resist the temptation if only for Erik. Who was I to deny him another chance at Christine if that's what would make him happy?

* * *

><p><strong>I know, guys, I <em>know. <em>I told you this was barley enough to call a chapter and it doesn't really have any point at the moment. I'm sorry. As for the vampire thing. . .well Erik is a bit of a weirdo so why not? I mean he admitted to Nadir in _Phantom_ that he'd dissected cadavers purely because he was curious. Also, I apologize if I offended any twi-hards. I've said so before and I'll say it again, I was once a twi-hard myself. I did come to my senses pretty quick, though.**


	7. Chapter 6

My nail bit into my thumb, the only sign at how frustrated I was. I wanted to scream and I would have if it wasn't for the fact that the cause of my frustration was sitting right across the café table from me. _Why oh why did I ever think this was a good idea?_ Because I'm a moron of a phan, that's why.

So here I was, suffering for my moment of stupidity in silent agony. Did the object of my frustration notice? Of course not.

"And so I said 'Raoul, it's my wedding too and-"

"Highly interesting, Mademoiselle." I said, cutting her off. "Do tell, where does your family figure into this great affair?"

Alright so that was a low blow. He face crumpled in on itself for a moment before she perked right back up.

"Papa is in heaven with Mama and the Angel of Music."

Umm did she miss the entire plot of the story here? Or is she just a naïve dumbass? I mean, I know she was before but I had hoped she wouldn't be now. For crying out loud she was, what, sixteen? Seventeen? The exact number didn't matter; the point was that she still had the mentality of a five year old.

"If you'll excuse me, Mademoiselle Daae, I must be going."

I thought I had made my escape when a cold hand latched around my wrist. Yeesh, and she claimed Erik was cold to the touch.

"But you can't go home by yourself! You could be mugged. . .or. . .or"

"Don't worry about me. I'm staying with a mutual acquaintance of ours and he would never let harm come to me."

Her eyes widened "You can't mean you are staying with a man while you are unmarried!"

"Are you not staying with the Fo-_Vicomte_?"

"That's different." She said, a blush working it's way from her hair to her chin. "That's because. . .circumstances being what they are. . .after what we've gone through. . ."

Tsk tsk Christine, what have the two of you been doing? Naughty.

I smirked. "He would never harm me or take advantage of me. He is the perfect gentleman."

"Don't give someone your mind blindly. It's dangerous."

Did she just grow fifteen years older before my eyes? It certainly sounded that way.

"Perhaps," I sniffed haughtily "if you gave someone a chance and heard them out you would understand their reasons for what they've done. Everyone deserves the same chance and trust you give your precious Vicomte, Christine. Everyone."

I wretched my arm away and marched down the street toward home.

"May I call on you some time?" She called from behind me.

I spun to face her again. "No. You do not know where I am residing and therefore cannot call on me. I may call on you sometime in the future."

"I believe we could be the best of friends."

Dear lord. What was I, the new Meg? I didn't want to be her friend. Truth be told I hate Christine Daae with every fiber of my being, if it wasn't obvious already. I would have been just fine never coming into contact with her, but I was doing this for Erik. I had to keep telling myself that, over and over._I'm doing this for Erik. I'm doing this for Erik. I'm doing this for Erik._ And I'd kill her for Erik, too, if he wanted.

As caught as I was in my dark thoughts I didn't realize I was home until I inadvertently stepped in the lake. The ice water brought me to my senses instantly and a bit painfully.

"Dammit Erik, this lake's colder than a witch's tit!" I shouted across the lake "Have you ever thought about installing a heater?"

Grumbling all the way, I tip-toed around the shorter (and narrower) side of the lake. It wasn't until I was almost home that I realized what I'd thought were my footsteps echoing was actually someone pounding on the door. Stealth mode didn't seem necessary seeing as whoever was trying to get into the house hadn't even reacted when I'd shouted earlier.

I stayed in the shadows, trying to figure out who this idiot was and what to do with them. The faint glow from his lantern illuminated him just enough that I could see his dark complexion. His dark hair and odd dress was irrelevant because his skin tone gave him away.

"Achmed!"

He started "I believe you have me confused with someone else, Mademoiselle. You should not be down here, it is dangerous."

"Oh, shush! And I know exactly who you are. You're Nadir Khan also known as The Persian. Daroga of something or the other. Muslim, yes?"

"Indeed I am of the Islamic faith."

"Same dif." I waved my hand. "I shall call you Achmed."

I turned my back to him, blocking his view as I stuck the odd key into the hidden lock. Really it was just a very small lock set into a deep groove in the door. I threw the door open and swept an arm toward the entrance.

"You wanted in, didn't you Achmed?"

"Oh, ah, yes. Yes, I did."

He walked into the house hesitantly, as if he expected to be thrown out by his ear. Actually, he probably was thrown out several times before so I can't blame him for being nervous. I didn't think he had anything to fear at the moment; everything seemed to indicated that Erik wasn't even home. Achmed sat down on the extreme edge of the settee, poised to run at any moment. I made a great show of going through the house looking for Erik.

"Well you should be able to relax, Achmed. Erik isn't here which I kind of assumed anyway. Lord knows he wouldn't have let you bang down his front door like that if he were here!"

I chuckled to myself and went about making tea. I wasn't as proficient at the art as Erik but seeing as all I'd ever used was tea bags at home, I think I did fairly well at it. Ached sipped his gingerly before setting it aside.

"To what do we owe this pleasure, Achmed? I must confess I'd hoped you come by soon. I've been _dieing_ to meet you."

"We? I wasn't aware Erik had another, ah, _protégée_."

"He doesn't, although I believe he is becoming rather fond of me. Don't tell him I said that."

Achmed jumped up in alarm. "Has he taken you, Mademoiselle? Quickly, I will help you to escape while he is not here."

"And did you think, Daroga," a voice drawled from the doorway "that no one is capable of wanting to stay with me?"

Erik stood not ten feet behind the settee his cat-like eyes boring into Achmed's skull. I couldn't tell if he was angry that Achmed was here, that I'd let him in, or a combination of the two.

"Erik! You've been practicing your ninja skills." I idly stirred my tea. "Sit down and be nice, we have a guest."

Erik snorted. "We? Since when has there been a we?"

"Um, since you were stupid enough to let me in the house."

"Are you calling me an idiot?"

"_Nooo_, just saying that you had a lapse in judgment."

He looked at me blankly before turning his attention back to our guest.

"Nadir-"

"Achmed." I corrected.

Erik rolled his eyes "Very well, Achmed-"

"No, no. It's Auk-med."

"That's what I said."

"No, you said Uck-med. It's Auk-med, auk auk auk auk auk!"

"Oh, ho!" He crossed his arms. "How do you spell it?"

"A. . .C. . .phlegm."

Erik raised a brow before disregarding me in favor for Achmed. I shrugged and left to settle down with a book.

-E-

It seemed like hours later when Erik finally collapsed in the armchair near me. Really, though, it couldn't have been that long; I was only twenty pages or so into my novel. But, I digress.

He ran a hand down the unmasked side of his face and stared blankly into the fire. By the way he was acting I wasn't entirely sure if he realized I was even in the room or not. Erik's normally immaculate suit was rumpled and his sleek hair hung loosely around his ears.

"Erik?"

"Damn that Daroga." He sighed "Every time Christine goes missing he assumes I'm behind it. Normally I am but he must know I haven't see her in months."

"Christine's not missing." I blurted without thinking.

He turned to glare at me, damning me for even uttering her name.

"Oh?"

"I. . .may have seen her earlier when I went out. She seemed just fine to me."

"And where did you go when you went out, Elizabeth?"

_Backpedal! Backpedal!_ "I went out to a café with a girl I met. Am I not entitled to a friend, Erik?"

He sagged back into his chair. That was one thing he couldn't argue with, he couldn't tell control me. I had never been under his power and even though he didn't admit it I knew he was afraid of doing anything too bad. I was here of my own violation and could leave of my own violation, something I know Erik didn't want. I was his first actual house guest, no one else had ever willingly stayed in his company for an extended amount of time. Hell, even Achmed hadn't ever stayed over with him and they'd been friends for years.

So wait, what did that make me? Achmed and Erik were best friends, whether they admitted it or not. Or, dear lord, was that what Achmed had been implying when he called me Erik's protégée? Did Erik see me as an annoyance or as a romantic interest? Hang on a second, why do I even care? All he is to me is a convenient place to stay with ample forms of entertainment and food. Right?

"Elizabeth?"

I blinked, focusing my eyes on his worried expression. I must have zoned out for longer than I thought.

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright? You're paler than me."

I smiled a little at his joke even though I wasn't pleased he was poking fun at himself.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking, you know?"

"What on Earth were you thinking about that frightened you so?"

"Hey Erik," I said brightly "did you ever think of getting a house in the country? It might just give you a tan."

He smiled lightly before frowning into the grate. I swear, that man's mood swings are more unpredictable than a pregnant woman's.

"I do have a small home in the country, actually. I bought it a few years ago."

Ah. That explains the mood swing. He must have bought it for the same reason he bought the wedding dress.

"Have you ever even been there?"

"Not since I bought it, no. I did have it furnished last year but I've yet to stay there."

This gave me a wonderful idea. He had a completely furnished home outside the city, so why not stay there for a bit? I dearly missed the sunshine and gentle breeze and, let's face it, the fresh air couldn't hurt him. How long had he been in this dank home anyway? Ten years? Fifteen? I guess the exact number depended on the version, really.

"Why don't we go stay there Erik? Just for a month or two. The weather must be beautiful! It's what, early August?"

"Today's the last of September."

Christ time flies when you're underground!

"Oh. Now I feel like a dumbass. Allow me to get a dunce cap."

I jumped up to leaver the room while I still had a bit of my dignity. My foot, however, had other plans. My heel caught in the voluminous skirts of the dress I was still wearing, yanking the back of it toward the ground. I gasped and stumbled. The edge of the rug slid away from me, taking my foot with it. A shriek and flying petticoats later I was lying flat on my back.

A small noise started somewhere near my right foot and slowly grew louder. I twisted around and found the source of said noise. Erik was bent over in his chair clutching his sides and laughing hysterically.

"This" I shouted over his musical laughter. "is why I don't wear dresses _or_ heels!"

He laughed all the more when I struggled to my feet. With a huff I stormed from the room to change into something more klutz friendly. Honestly! I thought he was a gentleman and he doesn't even ask if I was alright. I mean, yeah, I would've told him I was fine even thought I'm pretty sure I bruised my tailbone. But still!

After a good bit of private mortification I emerged from my room. Erik was where I left him before the fire, now reading the paper.

"Elizabeth, I think you may be right. We shall go stay in my country home for a bit."

"Oh?" I'd forgotten all about that suggestion.

"We leaver tomorrow."

He finally looked up from the paper and stared at me like I'd grown a second head.

"Are you wearing my pants?"

"Maybe." Well what choice did I have, he wouldn't buy me any.

"Get out of my pants. I never said you could get in my pants."

"But I like to be in your pants."

* * *

><p><strong>Yes I did just steal a bit of Jef-fa-fa Dun-HAM's (Jeff Dunham for those of you who are confused) dialogue. I can't help it, I just love that guy. And Peanut. Peanut's amazing. If you don't know who Achmed is you should go youtube him so you understand the running joke.<strong>

**Also this is what I do instead of pay attention in Physics, I write the old fashioned way. Then again, it's pointless to pay attention because the instructor just stares at us like we're idiots because we can't read her mind.**

**Last thing, I swear. Are any of you from the Boston area? I'm considering moving out there after college (I'd visit first of course) and was curious.**


	8. Chapter 7

**So I fail at this whole sit-down-to-write thing. I get way too distracted by everything. However this time I plead that my distraction was justified! I was acknowledged by one of my favorite cosplayers on both her Youtube and her Facebook. This is a huge deal to me. It's like. . .like. . .if Erik showed up at my door! Okay, well he'd be more of a distraction but you get the point. I dedicated a rather long blog post to this. I sound like an obsessed fangirl, I know.**

* * *

><p>The carriage bounced gaily along toward my new home. Much as I tried I couldn't picture it. Erik glared at me, clearly annoyed by my excitement. I sighed and turned my attention to the meadows rolling by. Who would have thought all this was only an hour from Paris? Meadows gave way to a small little forest before the carriage turned onto a narrow beaten path. I swear, taxi drivers have an infallible sense of direction. But I had to wonder at Erik not having his own small carriage. Perhaps he did and it awaited us at the house. That would make the most sense. He couldn't really keep it at the Opera without someone noticing, could he? Imagine, the ghost having his own carriage!<p>

We came to a halt in front of a massive set of gates, Erik handed me a key of his own making without a word, and I stepped down to unlock said gates. They opened without protest and we drove between the towering stone columns. The house came into view slowly as the trees melted away into a sweeping lawn. We approached the corner of the house so that it branched off to the left and right in a V-shape with a large tower at one end.

"Erik, this place isn't small!"

"Did I say it was small? Forgive me, I must have translated incorrectly." He said with a smirk.

We rolled to a gentle stop before the doors and I stepped down again, glad to be free of the small space. Erik slipped out the other side and into the house while the driver retrieved our bags. It had been much the same when we'd started out; the driver was under the impression I was traveling alone. I handed him a wad of francs (far more that necessary, I suspect) without a word as I'd been told. The driver bowed repeatedly reinforcing the idea that I'd just grossly overpaid him before heading back toward Paris.

"Well Erik," I said, picking up a small bag of mine. "are you going to help a lady with her bags?"

"A lady? Elizabeth I wasn't aware we had a guest."

I scowled at him and made my way to the second floor. Erik let me look around and pick what room I wanted, for which I was immensely grateful. The locked room I assumed was his and he flinched as I went to open one of the others, Christine's presumably. When I opened the door at the end of the hall I absolutely fell in love. The room was painted a pale yellow with the French doors opening onto a Juliet balcony letting in more sunshine than I'd have ever thought possible.

"It's wonderful! Oh, can I have this room Erik?"

He chuckled. "I'm glad you approve."

It was late in the evening when I finally emerged from my room; it had taken me hours to arrange everything just how I wanted it. At the bottom of my trunk I'd found a welcome surprise: my iPod. I should question how the hell it had gotten there but I was too excited at the aspect of being able to listen to _my _music for a change. So it was with iPod in hand that I set off to find the ballroom. After all, the house was so large it had to have one.

The ballroom (or what I assumed was it) was small but probably the size of the house I'd grown up in. I know that sounds large but said house was a very small home maybe twenty yards long. Anyway, I'm off topic. The floor was covered in something close to a very large canvas tarp, protecting the marble floors that gleamed underneath. I sat my iPod on the mantle of the giant fireplace, turned it on, and hit play.

My music must have been louder than it seemed or Erik had cat-ears. Either way he heard my music and like any good little music nut was drawn to it. I don't know how long he stood there before he interrupted my air guitar and sing-a-long session, both of which were pitiful.

_"Who's to know if your soul will fade at all? The one you sold to fool the world. You lost your self esteem along the-"  
><em>  
>"What on Earth is that noise?"<p>

I started. "It's not noise, it's music."

"No, I'm pretty sure it's noise."

I threw my hands up in exasperation. Honestly...

"You're just like my mother!"

"Should I be offended or flattered?"

I facepalmed. Leave it to Erik to be confused about an insult.

"Do you trust me, Erik?" I asked as a much more danceable song came on.

"Haven't you asked me this before?"

"Probably. And knowing you the answer was highly sarcastic. I want an honest answer this time. Do you trust me?"

He stared at his shoes before saying quietly. "More than I should, I fear. You have probably passed the Daroga in that aspect."

I smiled softly, despite myself. I can't help it, I'm a sappy and hopeless romantic. Apparently I'd gotten under his skin no matter how hard he tried not to let me.

"Come dance with me then." I tugged his arm hard enough that he stumbled into me. I didn't let him get far when he tried to jerk away.

"No, no, no! In my type of dancing we stay close. Just trust me, Erik. I'm not going to rape or seduce you." I grabbed his hips and attempted to force him to sway if nothing else.

"What are you doing?" He hissed through clenched teeth.

"Just move to the music, Erik! I'm only trying to help."

He eventually got the hang of what I was trying in vain to teach him. I laughed out loud, enjoying myself more than I ever had at a dance.

_"I say, Deeeela!"_ I sang along horribly. _"Deeeela! Ngyanya Deeeela! When I'm with you. Deeeela! Sondeeeela, mama, sondeeeela, I burn for you!"_

-E-

I laid perfectly still, trying to figure out what had woken me from a deep sleep. There it was again, a metallic scrape followed by a popping. I sat up and looked around the room. A woman I'd never seen before stood up from where she had been bent over the grate. I let out a blood-curdling scream and bolted from the room. Erik stepped out of his room down the hall and I ran straight to him.

"Erik!" My knuckles went white for the tight grip I had on his shirt. "Thank god!"

His arm slowly wrapped around me in a comforting gesture and I buried my face in his shoulder. I didn't who that woman was or why she was in my room but somehow I knew Erik would protect me.

"Elizabeth?"

"There's a woman in my room." I said, pointing in the general direction of my room.

I felt his laugh before I heard it. "Why, she's your maid! Haven't you ever had one before?"

I shook my head. "There is no such thing as servants anymore. And I don't want a maid anyway."

"Don't you want a companion?"

"I've got you, haven't I?"

Erik pried me from his chest and studied me intently. It wasn't until then that I realized he was barley dressed by Victorian standards. His black pants were slung low on his hips, feet bare, his shirt open and untucked.

"_Am_ I your companion, Elizabeth?"

"You're someone I spend large amounts of time with and who's company I enjoy. Does companion mean something else here?"

"I have something for you."

I followed him dumbly into his room, trying to recover from the whiplash of the sudden change in conversation. The door shutting behind me brought me to my senses and I looked around the room, noting it was much how I thought it'd be. The walls were a dark red wine color, a thick Persian rug graced the floor, and his iron bed set against the far wall, black satin sheets thrown haphazardly across the bed. Had my scream woken him? It certainly seemed that way.

He opened the wardrobe and removed a beautifully wrapped box. The instant it was in my hands he shooed me out the door. I was so intent on my gift that I completely ignored the maid still in my room. Gingerly I untied the bow and lifted the lid to find a note addressed to me atop a mountain of tissue paper.

_Elizabeth,  
><em>  
><em>I hope you don't think me forward in buying you this. However, since you insist on not wearing the gowns I have bought for you this may be more to your tastes. I had it ordered after I noticed you stealing my pants and I did the best I could without having your exact sizes in this aspect. The jacket will, likely, not fit due to. . .differences.<br>_  
><em>Seeing as your French is pitiful to say the least I made a point to get this in the latest London style. Perhaps it will help explain the awful state of your language skills since I doubt anyone would be able to understand you if you tried to explain yourself.<em>

_-Erik  
><em>  
>Alright, I know my French is bad. He didn't need to point it out even if it was jokingly done. But wait, a jacket? What on Earth did he buy me? I didn't think he would give me anything dangerous, but I was still cautious as I lifted the tissue paper. Inside was a young boy's outfit complete with heels, cape, and top hat. I let out a squeak and yanked the lovely thing out of the box.<p>

"Mistress?"

I looked up in surprise. The maid was still here? The girl looked frightened like she expected me to berate her for speaking. She wasn't much taller than I was, with bright blue eyes and flame red hair hastily shoved under a mob cap.

"I'm not your Mistress nor am I mistress of anything. What's your name?"

"Brigit O'Mally, ma'am."

"Irish, hmm? Your English is remarkably good."

"Thank you, ma'am." She dipped a quick curtsey "I was raised in England after me mum and pop left Ireland during the famine."

I fingered the black lapel of the green jacket as I thought. Being dressed as a boy would make it possible for me to go about on my own. The idea was tempting.

"Brigit, could you run me a bath?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, and do me a favor while I'm in there? Go and tell Erik that I need his shaving kit. I'll also need some bandages."

* * *

><p><strong>I didn't plan on giving Elizabeth an iPod. Really, I didn't. It just sort of. . .happened. I wanted to continue the chapter but it would have ended up being far too long, so here you go.<strong>

**Song 1: Fake It by Seether**  
><strong>Song 2: Dela (I Know Why The Dog Howls At The Moon) by Johnny Clegg &amp; Savuka It's in George of the Jungle if it sounds familiar to anyone.<strong>

**[Edit 1-4-12]: The size of Elizabeth's house seemed a bit small so I actually walked it. My house is seriously about twenty yards from one end to the other, not including the garage. *facepalm***


	9. Chapter 8

**I own nothing but Brigit and Elizabeth. Erik is a mixture of ALW, Kay and Leroux owned. Earl Ciel Phantomhive is owned by Yana Toboso and that woman is a genius!**

* * *

><p>Poor Brigit, I put her through the ringer just trying to get ready for the day. First she'd had to face a none too happy Erik and then help me bind my chest to flatten it. The latter task was more difficult than it sounds, seeing as I'm. . .ah. . .<em>well-endowed<em>. By the end of the morning the poor girl was completely scandalized.

Erik had business to attend to and as a result was gone by the time I was ready to leave the house. I guess he didn't need to know where I was going anyway. Despite my better instincts I allowed Brigit to accompany me to the city when she protested my going alone. Honestly, was I incapable of surviving without another person beside me just because I'm female? But I guess in this place that _is_ the main belief. Chivalry is nice and all but independence is a bit better.

I glanced at Brigit on the seat opposite me. She clearly wanted to speak but was too frightened by something to.

"Brigit, say what's on your mind. I don't know how the whole servant thing works here but frankly I don't care if you speak without being addressed first. How can I be around you all the time if we can't carry on a conversation?"

"Mistress, you cannot be planning to go out in public dressed as you are!"

I frowned. "I'm not your mistress, Brigit. I've said as much before. If you must call me Mistress please do so in your native tongue. I don't speak Irish or Gaelic or whatever it's called."

"That makes two of us then, ma'am."

"Pity." I sighed. "As for going out in public like this, I most certainly _am_ planning on doing so. First, however, we must make a little stop."

The carriage rolled to a stop outside the Rue de Scribe entrance and I stepped down, Brigit following behind me. In order for me to complete the look I was going for I needed a couple of things I could only get from the prop and costume rooms. Behind me Brigit made a noise of disgust at the state of the passageway. I frowned; the place was rather filthy even though we'd only been gone a day. Had it always been like this and I just never noticed?

The eye patch and cane I needed weren't difficult to come across. The wig, however, took some doing. After I'd finally found the correct color and cut it a bit I settled it onto my head with the help of an old mirror leaning against a wall. I gave a haughty sniff at the mirror and smiled in satisfaction. I blamed Erik entirely for giving me this idea. After all, he bought me the outfit.

"Brigit?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I have something very important to ask of you." I met her eyes in the mirror. "While I am dressed like this and in public you cannot refer to me as female in any way. I know it's a great scandal for a woman to be dressed as a boy and even more so for her to be seen in public that way. To avoid said scandal I will be going by Earl Ciel Phantomhive in public but in private I am still Elizabeth. If you should ever need a back-story for me, and I doubt you will, this is it: I am an English twelve year old orphan. My parents were murdered and our mansion set ablaze. I alone survived. Can you do this for me, Brigit?"

"Yes, ma'am." She hesitated. "I will do this for you, but it goes against all I know."

I smirked. "You will quickly find that I am _nothing_ like what you know. Oh, my French is pitiful. How's yours?"

"Eh, bonjour?"

I chuckled. So neither of us spoke French worth a shit. This would be interesting.

We swept out of the opera house and back into the regal carriage that waited out front. As we rolled down the street I could sense the curious glances directed our way. For my part I didn't see anything different about our carriage except, perhaps, the metal coat of arms glinting on each side. I didn't doubt that Erik had designed if not made each one himself. Truly, the roses entwined around a golden D made it a sight to behold. The carriage itself was solid black which made the silver and gold badges stand out all the more.

The great house loomed before us in no time, looking as cold as ice. How on earth could someone stay in a place like this? I could tell Brigit was confused why we were here but it would have been pointless to explain. Not because she was an idiot, but because it would have taken too much time and she still would have objected. I rapped on the door with the head of my cane and a gaudily dressed footman opened the door.

"Oui?"

"I am here to see Mademoiselle Daae."

He obviously did not speak English but seemed to get the gist of what I was saying. We were ushered into the parlor and I purposefully took the great chair beside the fire. Let that pompous Fop come and shoo me from his throne. _Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear._

Not a full minute after the footman withdrew from the room the Fop walked in. His golden hair shone as he shook it back from his expertly tailored shoulders. My, my. He really believes himself handsome, doesn't he? With that personality only the gold diggers and moronic seventeen year olds would love him. A waterfall of French fell from his oh so perfect lips and I waited patiently for him to shut the hell up.

"Bonjour Vicomte de Chagny." I crossed my legs. "It is a pleasure to see you but I did not come here for you. I came here for Mademoiselle Daae and I will not leave until I've seen her."

"Ah, you're English."

"Very good de Chagny. Now, if you please." I motioned toward the door.

"Who. . .who are you to dismiss me in my own home?" He sputtered.

"Have I forgotten to introduce myself? I am Earl Ciel Phantomhive. Mademoiselle Daae, please? I am impatient to speak to her."

"Why do you wish to see her?"

"Why are you so suspicious?" I countered. "I'm not going to kidnap her and force her to be my bride."

It was obvious that's exactly what he thought I'd do. Yeesh, Erik really did a number on these two mentally.

"She befriended my sister." I lied. "My sister wished me to pass something along to Mademoiselle Daae. I am simply being a good brother and doing what she asked."

He frowned and left the room. It didn't take much to displease him, did it? I was gazing into the fire when the door opened again. Christine stood meekly before me in a bubble-gum pink dress overflowing with frills. I wrinkled my nose in disgust; the thing was atrocious. I looked to the Fop who stood beside her, clearly not planning on leaving her side.

"You may go, de Chagny."

"I beg your pardon? I am not leaving her here with someone I do not know."

I looked at him coldly. "Being a Vicomte, you are beneath me. I order you to leave the room."

"You _dare_ order me as if I am a servant?"

"Not at all. I order you as if you are forgetting the hierarchy of nobles, which you clearly are. Vicount or Vicomte is below Earl." I smiled sweetly. "Now, get out."

He glared at me before flipping his hair and storming out. Christine looked at me nervously as though she thought I'd snap at her like I had the fop.

"Ra-Raoul said you wanted to s-speak with me?"

"Sit down, Mademoiselle." Only after she had sat in the chair across from me did I continue. "I did want to speak to you about something. Or, rather, someone."

"Raoul mentioned that you said I befriended your sister?"

"Ah, yes. You had expressed a desire to call on Elizabeth didn't you? Well I'm here to take you for such a visit. If it pleases you, of course."

"O-oh! I wasn't aware she was nobility. Before I go I should change."

"Nonsense, you look fine!" _Just like a glitter pen threw up on a cupcake._ "Come, we'll leave now."

I had to all but drag Christine from the house and into the carriage. Most of the way home Christine wouldn't shut up with her stupid questions even though I politely refused to answer any of them. She attempted to grill Brigit but it was an epic fail because Brigit couldn't really answer any of them. The longest ride of my life finally ended and Christine gasped quietly when we stepped down from the carriage. Personally I didn't see why she was so impressed, it's not like it was any bigger than the Fop's place.

"Is. . .is this where you live?"

I laughed. "Yes and no. I live here currently but it's not my home."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"This is the home of a mutual acquaintance of ours. He's allowing me to stay here against his better judgment."

"You and your sister, you mean."

"Uh, about that. I'm an only child actually."

She recoiled and stared at me in horror. Well I guess she could have misinterpreted that to seem like I meant her ill. Brigit coaxed her into the salon before taking my hat and cane.

"Wha-what do you want with me?"

"I don't mean you any harm, Christine. I'm trying to help you and the person I'm staying with."

She curled farther into the settee and clutched at her neck line. Honestly, did she think I was going to rape her or something?

"Che." I scoffed "You'll never believe a word I say while I'm like this."

I peeled off my coat and tugged at the bow around my neck before handing both to Brigit. The wig slipped off easily, followed by the eye patch, and god-awful shoes. My hair hung limp around my face so I pulled it back loosely with the ribbon that had previously been my bow. I turned my back to Christine before opening the front of my shirt and removing the wrapping around my chest, grateful I had put on a bra before binding this morning.

"You have no idea how much that starts to hurt." I sighed.

"Why, you're. . .you're a girl!"

I frowned. "Seeing as I'm older than you I would prefer you refer to me as a woman. Congratulations, by the way, on pointing out the obvious."

"But who are you?"

"I'm Elizabeth, you twit!" I flicked her forehead. "You really are slow, aren't you?"

Her eyes widened. Had she realized that I'd just insulted her twice in the same sentence?

"Elizabeth? So it was really you that came to get me?"

Apparently not. "Yes, you cauldron bum. You had said you wanted to call on me and I was bored so I came to get you."

Brigit came back into the room from putting my things away followed by the footman carrying a tea tray behind her. As he poured me a cup I quietly sent Brigit to get me a few ice chips. I am American after all and hot tea is awful. Christine stared at me in disbelief as I poured teaspoon after teaspoon of sugar in my cup, followed by the ice chips Brigit had gotten for me.

"What?"

"You put far too much sugar in your tea, Mademoiselle."

"Christine, I believe that's a matter of personal preference. As it stands, my culture is to pile sugar on everything and drink nothing but chocolate hot."

"Where are you from, if it's not too much to ask?"

"Not at all." I sipped my tea, which was still too warm for my taste. "I'm from America. Our acquaintance and I met after I collapsed on his doorstep."

"You collapsed?" She cried.

"Oui." I sat my cup back down. "I had just gone through a terrible shock, found myself in the area without knowledge of how I got here, and managed to get to his door. He was kind enough to take me in and allows me to stay with him seeing as I have nowhere else to go."

"I too stay with someone because I have nowhere else to go."

I cocked an eyebrow "That's not true, is it? You have many other people that you could stay with and not be risking a scandal. So why do you not?"

"I. . .I do not wish to be a burden on them. It is just the same that I stay with my childhood friend."

"Childhood friend?" I frowned. "Does that mean there is no engagement? Hmm, I hadn't read about that development."

"What?" She nearly dropped her tea. "How did you. . .? We never announced. . ."

"Christine," I chuckled. "announcements are unnecessary after recent events. There are only two reasons why the Vicomte would escort you to a ball. One, you are his mistress. Or two, you are his unlikely fiancée. Base on the completely child-like personality of you both the latter is true."

Christine opened her mouth to say something but I shushed her, listening hard. I could have sworn I'd heard the front door open and shut. My eyes got wider with each 'tak' in the hallway. Normally those footsteps were silent but the riding boots were too hard-soled to be muffled.

"Oh god."

A few muffled words came through the wall but Christine didn't seem to hear them. I watched in horror as the doorknob turned in slow-motion. A black-clad figure appeared in the newly opened door and in that instant I knew my life was pretty much over.

"Elizabeth, I'm back."

* * *

><p><strong>Can I write a cliffy or what?<strong>

**For the record, "Che" is a sound Ciel Phantomhive frequently makes. Say it out loud, if you wish, so you know how to read it. The 'e' is silent so it's actually 'ch' but it's translated as either 'tch' or 'che' in the manga with the latter being closer to how it sounds. And yes, I just used another Wizard Swear. So sue me, I clearly didn't come up with them or the Potter Puppet Pals.**

**I'll let My Genuine Find say it for me, instead of a review rant: "And don't be a lurker, 'cause lurkers aren't cool. And don't be a stranger, 'cause strangers don't go to school. Don't be a fool." (That would be The Stickam Song if you're at all interested. And don't ask about the last bit, he was desperate for a rhyme apparently.)**

****Photos of both houses and a reference picture or two of Ciel will be up on missculleniwish(dot)webs(dot)com soon. None of these are so important you must go see them, but I find they help me picture things in my head.**


	10. Chapter 9

**Remember when I said we were approaching the time when the pairing had to be decided for certain? Well this is it.**  
><strong><br>FOREWARNING: There will be some strong-ish language in this chapter due to screaming matches. If it offends you, I apologize and give you a dozen virtual cookies. Also, some of the things Erik says may or may not be believable for the time period. However, I don't know any good Victorian insults so he gets some modern ones.**

* * *

><p>"Elizabeth, I'm back."<p>

All the color slowly drained from Christine's face as she looked at me in horror. She knew what I had done and finally all the pieces were falling into place in her pretty little head. Nothing I could say would ever fix this in her eyes, not that it really mattered. Hadn't this been what I had been working toward the whole time? Hadn't I been trying to get these two into the same room so I could somehow force them to be happy together as my inner phangirl knew they should be?

All the blood that had left Christine's face slowly made its way to Erik's and I knew then and there that I was doomed. Brigit sensed the brewing storm and gently shooed Christine out of the room. Hopefully she sent Christine home because this wasn't going to be pretty or quiet. I closed my eyes in defeat.

"Before you start, Erik, lock the door."

The lock clicked ominously into place; at least no one but myself would be harmed by an enraged Erik. The silence stretched on and on without a sound from both of us. If it were anyone else I'd have said this god-awful silence was worse than the anger that was to come. I had to force myself to keep breathing steadily and not give in to the fear. I would not be afraid of Erik or his anger. I had stupidly brought this on myself so it was only right that I take responsibility for my actions.

I sensed rather than heard Erik approach me. The leather of his gloves creaked and I braced myself for the inevitable blow. I wouldn't hold it against him if he punched me right in the face after my little stunt here.

"Why is she here?" He hissed through clenched teeth.

"I. . .I didn't think-"

"That's right, you didn't think!" I flinched at his harsh tone. "You never think, do you? You've been here for months and I've yet to see you use your head!"

"But Erik, I-"

"I don't want your excuses!" He jerked my chin upward. "Look at me."

I forced my eyes open and saw nothing but Erik's face, twisted in rage, before me. Never before had I seen him this angry and, much as I hate to admit it, I was frightened by the look in his eyes.

"So, you're afraid of the monster? Smart girl."

_No,_ I wanted to say _I'm afraid of your anger_. If only I could force my mouth to work!

"Was this all just to poke at the monster? You and Christine must have had a grand old time planning this out! 'Let's see how much it takes to get a reaction from the monster.' Was that it? 'Oh if this doesn't work we'll bring the Vicomte in.' He's here, isn't he?"

All I could do was shake my head furiously, which did nothing but convince him I was lying. He grabbed my arm roughly and threw me from my chair to the floor at his feet. I clutched at my arm as he stood breathing heavily over me, clenching and unclenching his fists. Oh god, what had I done? Erik knelt over me and placed a hand on either side of my head, effectively caging me.

"Where is he?" He said menacingly.

"Erik, that Fop's not here. Only Christine came back with me."

His eyes narrowed. "You planned this from the start. Everything you've said to me has been a lie, hasn't it? You were never lost in the cellars, Christine brought you to my door."

"No! Dammit, listen to me." I pushed on him, rolling us over. "I was trying to help you! You're in love with Christine for some _stupid _reason so I tried to help you be happy."

"Are you implying that I'm an idiot?"

"In this instance, yes, you're a bloody idiot! I will never understand what you see in that moronic child but if she makes you happy I'll do my damnedest to get you two together."

I stood and walked to the fireplace, leaning on the mantle for support. God, why could nothing be simple with this man? He only expresses himself in passion, be it good or bad, and I didn't. The people back home would be frightened to see me shouting at someone like this; I was always so shy and meek before I met Erik.

"You. . .think I want to be with Christine?"

I faltered. "Don't you? That's what you've worked toward for the past ten-odd years."

"She's not happy around me and I don't want her to be miserable because of my selfishness."

"Oh you've got to be shitting me!" I threw my hands up in exasperation. "Since I came here I've been trying to hook you two up. You're miserable because of that. . ._wench_. God damn it all to hell!"

Erik looked at me aghast. "So you brought her here to force the two of us into a relationship that you seemed to think we both wanted? Are you out of your fucking mind? This isn't some story, Elizabeth, and things don't work out a particular way just because you think they should."

And with that I collapsed in the nearest chair. Why was I even bothering? This was the greatest love triangle ever written I was trying to change. Many before me, I'm sure, had attempted to change the fate of these three and didn't succeed. The moron would always go with the moron, leaving the beautiful soul alone.

"Always alone." I murmured looking up at Erik. "While everyone in the world bares their ugly souls they force the most beautiful soul to hide. Nothing is ever as it seems, is it Erik?"

"That was quite 'deep' as the lower classes say. Where on earth did it come from?"

"It was just a sudden realization." I sighed, rubbing my temple. "What are we doing Erik?"

"Well we were arguing until you started philosophizing." He said wryly.

"No, Erik, I'm serious. What are the two of us really doing here? Much as I enjoy being around you all the time, I know I annoy you to no end. You must be sick of my presence and all we do is bicker. I suppose I should just leave, yeah?"

"Leave? And where, pray tell, would you go?"

"I don't know. Home, I guess, if I can find a way. I'll get out of your hair and your century. Apparently you were happier here before I showed up."

How this had gone from a screaming match over my stupidity to a conversation about our strange relationship I'll never know. All I knew was that I had finally admitted to myself that Erik didn't want me around. Why would he? Half the things I said made no sense to him, I pestered him constantly, and I was quite the scandal with my behavior. I simply wasn't a Victorian girl who sat down and took whatever life gave me, I fought back to get what I wanted from the fates.

Unnerved as to why this realization bothered me so much, I stood and made my way to the door. It was no use staying here and having a pointless discussion, I might as well just leave. The door had almost shut behind me when I heard him.

"But what if I don't want you to leave, Elizabeth?"

-E-

I didn't leave my room for the rest of the night, barley even speaking to Brigit when she was around. My mind had been made up and I was almost physically ill at the thought of what I was about to do. I still couldn't believe my stupidity involving the girl and matters became infinitely worse after I fled to my room. There, sitting calmly on my bed, was another gift from Erik. It was another men's outfit resting in a box, this time cut for a woman. Where Erik had found someone who'd fashion the outfit I didn't know, but I knew it must have cost a small fortune.

Brigit helped me into the dark tweed pants, brown checked jacket, cream ruffled shirt, and dark boots the next morning frowning the entire time. She packed a few of my possessions into a small bag while I fought with my mane of curls. I sighed deeply, annoyed with the fact that my long hair frizzed uncontrollably. Brigit had given me some strange thing to help with the frizz but it wasn't nearly effective enough. Still, I appreciated the effort. Picking up my bag, I walked out of the room and downstairs toward the front door.

"Elizabeth?"

I jerked to a stop, closing my eyes. Damn! I had wanted to avoid seeing Erik on my way out. I turned slowly to face him and he gave me a quick once over.

"Oh, um, hello Erik. Th-thank you for the, um, the outfit. It's much more comfortable than the other. Not that the other's not comfortable! It's just, the chest's a bit tight. . ."

God, why was I rambling so much? And why was I so nervous? Erik's visible eyebrow lifted at my discomfort.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm, ah, leaving like I said last night. Brigit decided to come with. If you'll excuse us."

I made to spin around but his hand shot out and latched onto my elbow holding me in place. My gaze traveled up his arm and locked with his as time froze. What was that look in his eyes? Pain (it seemed there was always pain in his eyes) but there was something else under it, trying to break free. What was that? It was just there, barely hidden. If he were to relax at all I know it would have leapt to the front, eclipsing every other emotion. Could he possibly dislike me that much? Dear god. . .

"Erik?" I asked uncertainly.

He yanked his hand from my arm as if he'd been burnt. "Leaving, you said? You'll need a horse, unless you plan to walk the whole way. Feel free to take the mare, in fact I'll just saddle her for you."

I stared at him dumbly as he led Brigit and I through the house and out to the stables. Erik glanced in my direction before placing a normal saddle on the beautiful girl and I grinned triumphantly. I was no horsewoman and I sure as hell wasn't going to ride like a proper lady; with my clumsiness I'd fall off the damn horse before we got to the road. Caesar, Erik's black stallion, nudged my shoulder from behind and I stroked his head gently. For his great intimidate look Caesar really was a big baby of a horse, though he didn't really care much for me.

Erik handed the reins over to me and I studied the mare, having never seen her before. Had Erik just recently gotten her? She was a beauty though, her cream coat contrasting with her long black mane and tail. Her forelock fell a bit over one eye giving her a playful and young look. She nickered at me and nuzzled my hand.

"Why hello there." I giggled. "And what's your name?"

"I just recently acquired her. Perhaps you'd like to name her?"

"Oh!" I cocked my head to the side, thinking. "Hmm, how about Cherokee?"

Erik snorted. "Cherokee?"

"What? You put me on the spot. It took me days to come up with a name for my kitten so be happy the first thing out of my mouth wasn't incredible stupid." I raked my fingers through the mare's long mane. "Besides, her mane's so long and dark it reminds me of the Native Americans."

"Very well, Cherokee she is."

I lead Cherokee over to the mounting block before swinging up onto her back. After settling into the saddle I pulled Brigit up behind me and she immediately gripped my hips firmly in her hands. I chuckled. So Brigit was afraid of being on a horse? Erik lead us out of the stable before turning to face me. He stared at me for a long time, before bowing stiffly and all but sprinting to the house. _Well that was. . .odd. _Come to think of it, why had Erik let me name Cherokee when she was his horse? And why was he being so damn friendly?

Sighing, I turned Cherokee toward Paris and set off. There were only two places I could stay, one of which I doubted would be empty much longer and the other I didn't even know how to reach. Still, the second one was really my only option no matter how hard it would be to find one house in the sea of thousands. I hadn't really even considered the stir my appearance would cause until we reached the edges of Paris. The whispers erupted around me like wildfire and the staring was worse than the corset incident. Well, riding astride and wearing pants are huge no-no's here. I didn't really care though, I'd never fit in simply because I wasn't like these girls. Before I could go down that destructive mental path again I spotted someone who looked like they could help me down the road a-ways.

"Darius!" I shouted.

The Persian man jerked to a halt and stared at me in a vague fear. Hmm, had I frightened him? I hadn't meant to, honest. I knew he hardly spoke French so it was safe to assume he knew no English.

"Darius. Nadir Khan?" Those were some of the only things I knew he'd understand.

Darius shook his head and attempted to back away.

"Darius," I said in what I hoped was a comforting way. "Nadir Khan?"

"Non, non, non! Non Nadir Khan!"

"Darius." I sighed. "Nadir Khan? Daroga?"

"Oh, oui!" He cried. "Daroga!"

He pointed down the road and then to the left. I smiled gratefully at him and set off the way he'd directed. I could only hope he understood what I wanted and had truly pointed me toward Achmed's home. The quaint little cottage rose up before us sitting on the very edge of town and it certainly looked like a place Achmed would live. Brigit and I dismounted in the side yard and I wrapped Cherokee's reins securely around the fence enclosing part of the yard. After a good five minutes of beating on the door I gave up and walked into the house.

"Oh, Achmed! My dear Daroga! Where are you?" I called.

I found him sound asleep on the couch beside the fireplace looking so peaceful I almost didn't wake him up. Almost. I shook him, yelling something incoherent about Erik's pants being on fire and he started awake.

"Oh, good, you're awake!" He blinked at me bleary eyed. "Mornin, sunshine!"

"Who. . .who are you?"

"I'm hurt, Achmed."

"Achmed? But I'm not. . .oh sweet Allah."

Now he was getting it! He looked around suspiciously like he thought Erik might be lurking in the shadows.

"Erik's not here."

"How did you find this place, then?"

"Darius is ever so helpful!" I said brightly.

A murderous look crossed his face and I took a quick step backwards. Was he really angry with Darius for giving someone directions? Then again, if it had been someone who meant Achmed ill it could have ended badly. He turned his thoughtful gaze toward Brigit and I before moving to the bag near my feet.

"Why exactly are you here, Mademoiselle?"

"Achmed, I thought we were closer than that! Call me Elizabeth. And I'm here because I need a place to stay, if you'd be so kind."

"Why aren't you staying with Erik?"

"Oh," I deflated instantly. "we. . .had a rather bad argument. I did something incredibly stupid and Erik was livid with me. I realized it was better if I simply left since we didn't get along that well anyway. I'm sorry to bother you by coming here, but I couldn't go back to the Opera. I doubt he'll stay at the house very long before returning to his sewer."

"The house? You mean the house by the lake?"

"Didn't you know? Erik has a country home. He, ah, bought it a few years ago apparently and_ recently _remodeled it."

Achmed seemed to catch my drift and realized exactly why he even had the place. He'd bought it for Christine and fixed it up for Christine. How funny that he was living there with a female and it wasn't the her. Who would have guessed?

Achmed showed myself and Brigit to a spare room, apologizing profusely that we'd have to share, before disappearing. I sighed and dropped my bag on the floor near the bed.

"Well, Brigit, I guess this is home now."

* * *

><p><strong>What can I say? When the muse hits it hits. Apparently this plot bunny also has an evil streak. . .<strong>


	11. Chapter 10

**Hi guys! *waves like an idiot* I really wanted to get this to you last month but things just kind of failed. Why did I want to get this to you last month? Well because I'm doing NaNoWriMo! Or, rather, I'm trying. I'm so far behind already it's not even funny. *facepalm* It's all because I can't write original fiction! Character development, it kills me.  
><strong>  
><strong>But then I realized that NaNo allows fanfiction. I danced a little jig when I remembered that tid bit. They really don't care so long as it's some form of fiction. So guess who's going to be working her arse off on this? 50,000 words, here we come!<strong>

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before I was regretting the decision to come here. <em>I should have just taken my chances at the Opera. <em>Achmed was nice and all for letting me stay with him when he barely knew me but he and Darius were like an old married couple. By the end of the night those two had bickered in Persian more than they had breathed. I was honestly half expecting them to start throwing things at each other.

Weeks passed in the Khan household and I only realized it because of Brigit. That girl seemed to have some sort of bet going with herself as to how long we'd be here and was marking each day off on a little calendar she'd come across somewhere. I couldn't really blame her, I was going nuts trapped in that house. Oh sure I'd taken Cherokee out for a ride every now and then but I just felt so enclosed in that little house, and not in a good way. I was very nearly to the point of painting a red face on a ball and calling it Wilson to alleviate the boredom.

One morning, after weeks of not having any clumsy attacks, I very nearly killed myself tripping over the saddlebags laying by the door. Those damn things! Darius had brought them in thinking they had something worth stealing in them and I'd just dropped them by the door. Honestly I didn't even know why they were on Cherokee in the first place, I certainly had nothing in them. Rubbing my shoulder, I sat up from where I'd landed and noticed something peeking out of one of the bags. I gingerly pulled it out knowing that it had to be Erik's, which could mean it was highly dangerous.

To my surprise it was just a little envelope. . .with my name on it. I narrowed my eyes and ripped the thing open to find thousands of francs inside. Growling to myself I yanked the note off the wad of bills and read through it quickly.

_Elizabeth,_

_I knew you'd be leaving soon. Why on earth would you stay? If you've found this then you've just recently left and I doubt you'll come back. Forgive my forwardness in slipping this in your things, but I couldn't let you leave without some form of help. After all, you don't really have anyone here, do you? If you're ever in need just come find me, I'll be more than happy to help you._

_Yours,_  
><em>Erik<em>

How dare he think I couldn't take care of myself! I was perfectly capable of doing so! Sure it might be more difficult for a single woman to get by here, but I could manage. Did he think I was completely useless? But, a traitorous thought emerged _what if he was simply worried about me?_ I shook my head. What utter nonsense! Why would he be worried about me? It's not as if he cared for me at all.

But wait, _did_ he care for me? He seemed so upset after that argument that I was leaving but he was so friendly when he saw me off. Was that his way of trying to get me to stay at the house, with him? He seemed to hint that he wasn't interested in Christine anymore, but was that just because she wouldn't be happy with him? Or had he moved on? I stumbled down to the main room, head reeling.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle."

"M-morning Achmed."

"Hmmm," He said without looking up from the paper he was reading. "sounds like you just had a rather unpleasant realization."

I stared at him blankly, halfway into a chair. "Are you positive you're not Sherlock Holmes?"

"For the last time, Mademoiselle, I still don't know who that is."

For the life of me I couldn't remember what had led me to that question the first time, but I had asked it many times since. I knew as a Daroga (or police chief) being observant just kind of became natural, but some of the things he'd say offhandedly reminded me of the great detective. Achmed shook the paper a bit to get my attention and pointed to an article in the corner.

"Have you seen this, Mademoiselle? There's to be another Masque Ball this year at the Opera House."

"Let me see that!" I said, snatching the page from his hand.

There it was, down in the corner, a modest sized ad inviting all nobility to the Opera House. It was only three weeks away and the theme was to be gold and silver, no other colors allowed. I smirked knowing just who would be there and what he'd be wearing. Erik would be highly insulted at not being personally invited and would make sure it was known that he was there. It may be tacky to wear the same costume twice, but that Phantom would so they knew who he was.

"Brigit!" I called. "Bring me my cloak and those saddlebags! We're going to a dressmaker's shop."

A slightly mad dash around the house later and we were on our way. The shop I wanted wasn't too far from Achmed's place so I simply dragged Brigit down the street with me. We came to a stop out front and I heard Brigit's sharp intake of breath. It was true, the business didn't look like it belonged in this area of town and it didn't really. The owner, however, made it impossible for her shop to be anywhere else. Not many well-to-do people came here but almost all of my clothing had her tag inside and I trusted Erik on this one.

"Ah, welcome!"

The shop owner stood from her place before a table laden with fabrics and made her way over to us. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back loosely and her navy dress hung from her frame making her appear even thinner. It was obvious she hated her position and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. It was her own fault, really, creating such a public scandal like she did.

"Madame Bovary," I said coldly. "I am aware of your work and require a Masquerade gown in blood red for a ball in three weeks."

"Ma'am, that simply is not possible."

"You will be paid handsomely once the gown is completed. I require that it is the deepest red possible and cover my shoulders. I will wait here for your designs."

I knew I was acting like a royal bitch but she couldn't expect anything better. I'll admit that I never finished the novel about her fail of a life simply because I hated the woman. Less than half way through I wanted to jump into the book and strangle Emma Bovary but I settled for skipping to the end and laughing joyously. I know that sounds heartless to anyone who's read the novel but I can't help it.

After an hour a weary Madame showed me a few designs to choose from. I tossed out all but the last one and commissioned it, with a few minor changes. The gown was a blood red with elbow length sleeves and a high collar that dipped down low in the front. My favorite part of the gown was the skirt, though; from the hips down the gown looked like it was made of nothing but rose blooms. Madame had a bit of white lace on the bodice and a white eye mask but I insisted they be changed to black. I wanted to look vaguely frightening, not like I was going to a Christmas party!

I was going to this ball for two reasons: to annoy the hell out of Erik and to enjoy the company of some different people. It's not that I didn't like hanging out all day with Achmed, Brigit, and Darius but it got to be boring. As for annoying Erik, what better way than by upstaging him a bit? Imagine his surprise when he realizes he's not the only one disregarding the idiotic managers' rules! I couldn't wait.

-E-

Three weeks passed in a flurry of dress fittings and angry foreigners. Mr. and Mr. Persian were at each other's throats again but over what I don't know nor do I wish to. Brigit had given me a good verbal lashing when we'd gotten home from the dressmaker's that first day about my awful behavior to Madame Bovary. I attempted to be kind to the woman at each fitting but the excessive jabbing of pins into my flesh told me my efforts were futile.

In the end all the dress-fitting-war injuries I'd gotten were worth it; the dress looked stunning. It was with all the pride of an older sister that Brigit set my hair for me and sent me off to the Opera House. Shockingly enough there was no one check invitations at the front door, which I was a little worried about. Once in the door, however, it was obvious why no one was paying attention to the incoming guests.

Erik stood at the top of the grand staircase, looking haughtily down at everyone. I looked him over, curious as to which version of the Red Death he would resemble. His large hat had feathers strategically spilling over the side, the cloak was edged in gold and just brushed the ground. The double-breasted coated hugged his chest, the sleeves edged in gold, and his tight pants were tucked smartly into gleaming black riding boots. His mask was straight out of the Webber costume house, full faced and intricately detailed.

"Kill la fop, long live Erik and his smexy tight pants." I murmured.

It didn't take more than a couple of steps into the crowd before I heard the whispers.

". . .how atrocious. . ."

". . .utterly distasteful.. . ."

". . .to think someone would go so far. . ."

". . .with the Mademoiselle to be in attendance, none the less. . ."

". . .can't believe. . ."

". . .the nerve. . ."

So the Child and the Fop were going to come, if they weren't already here? Interesting, very interesting. With my most regal look in place I forged my way across the crowded room toward Erik. The crowd sort of parted around me as I walked and such unusual behavior caught his attention. I stopped a few steps below Erik and curtsied low.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Red Death. I am the Lady Death."

"Bonjour, my Lady. What brings you here?"

"The same as you, I suspect." I said with a small smile. "What a better place to have some fatal fun than at a ball!"

"Very true." He scanned the room before offering his arm to me. "Shall we continue our conversation in a more private place?"

He lead me into the darkened auditorium and away from prying eyes. The instant we were alone he dropped my hand that was resting on his arm and stepped a good ten feet from me.

"Why are you here, Elizabeth?"

"No 'hello'? No 'how have you been'? I feel the love."

"Hello Elizabeth. How have you been?" He said sarcastically.

"Fine thank you. As for why I'm here, couldn't I ask you the same?"

"This is my opera house, as such it's only natural that I attend."

I snorted. "That's a lie and you know it, Erik. I'm guessing you've been bored without any managers to terrorize so you came here. Myself, I honestly came here to annoy the hell out of you and get away from the bickering Persians. Those two have been at each other's throat since the day I got there!"

"Persians? You're staying with Nadir, then?"

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!" I smiled. "You can't honestly tell me you didn't know where I was. I know you better than that."

"I admit, I followed you to Nadir's home. I. . .wanted to be sure you were safe. You insist that you're not helpless like the women here, but to me you are precious and I do not want to see you hurt. You are, after all, in a foreign country where you do not speak the language."

Again with the lack-of-French-skills jabs. I sighed; leave it to Erik to ruin a sweet thought. And just what did he mean by saying I was precious to him? I'm not some sort of doll.

"Gee, thanks for the concern." I said sarcastically. "I assume you've moved back into the house by the lake?"

"No," He said quietly, staring at a spot on the wall. "I am still at the country house. Should you have chosen to come home, I would have been there to welcome you back. I fear I always will be."

I was having the strangest feeling of déjà vu. I knew Erik had never said something like that to me, but someone else had hinted around the same subject. My eyebrows furrowed beneath my mask as I thought. Achmed! Achmed had remarked a few times over the course of my stay about Erik and I. But what point had he been trying to make? Surely he wasn't trying to say that Erik. . .that he. . .!

"Would you like to rejoin the ball, Elizabeth?"

Wide-eyed I nodded and followed him back into the pack of blood-thirsty nobles. I wasn't even really aware we were moving until the sudden light and sound of the ball washed over us. Dancers swirled across the floor maddeningly and the room was heady with so many perfumes. Overall, it was rather a trippy feeling.

"Might I have this dance, Lady Death?" A brave young knight asked.

"I thank you, Sir Knight, but I must decline."

"You should dance, my Lady." Erik quietly insisted as the knight walked dejectedly away.

"I will only dance with my equal, Monsieur Red Death."

I sent Erik a sly glance, waiting to see if he would catch my drift. Dancing here led to flirting which led to courting and I had no interest in any of that. Plus, you know, I can't really dance. However, if Erik asked me to dance I wouldn't say no. He turned to face me, seemingly studying my expression.

"Would you care to dance, my dear?"

"Of course."

Had he ever called me that before? I didn't remember him doing so and I kind of liked that he did. Erik led me to the main area and I barely noticed the eyes on us, focusing on his bare hand in mine. After placing my hands where they should be I stared at him blankly, at a complete loss what to do next.

"You have no idea how to do this, do you?" He asked quietly and I can about guarantee he was smirking under that mask.

"Which would be a main reason for not dancing with anyone but you. At least you'll be kind about it. Hopefully."

"Hmm," He thought for a moment. "stand on my boots and no one will be any the wiser."

"Eri-Monsieur Red Death! Don't you think that's highly improper, us being that close?"

"Yes," He drawled. "but they're already gossiping. Why not make it more interesting?"

_I think he's been around me too long. _His hand on my lower back pulled me firmly to him and I had no choice but to comply with his demands. Sighing I stepped up onto his boots and waited for his plead to get off him. I was no skinny girl nor was I three so I was certain my weight had to hurt his toes. He didn't complain though, merely tightened his grip on my waist and took off spinning across the floor. The eyes of almost everyone on in the room were on us waiting for yet another thing to gossip about.

Myself, I couldn't focus on anything but Erik's hand in mine and his other on my back. I don't remember a time when I had ever been this close to him or felt his skin against mine. Usually he wore those black leather gloves of his but tonight they were gone. Since I had first seen them resting silently under his billowing sleeves I had been fascinated. I mean, I knew his hands were frail but to actually see them was a whole other thing.

Those hands, so pale and thin, looked more suited to holding a tea cup than to pounding out music relentlessly. No one would have thought they were the hands of a murdering musical genius, architect, and artist. They were cool to the touch but not so much like death's hands as the Child would have everyone believe. It was sort of refreshing to be holding someone elses hand without yours getting all clammy.

The rest of Erik was just as thin and frail if his shoulder was anything to go by. I could feel the bone beneath my hand, little to no flesh in between. But, god, was he tall! I knew he was but I never realized _just_ how tall he was compared to me. Granted I was only five foot two but Erik had to be over six feet; my eyes were level with his chest. Slowly Erik was letting his walls down around me and I wasn't even sure he realized it. To think, there was really only one wall left for him to hide behind. The awful mask that made him seem so cold and harsh was the only thing he still clung to.

Erik stopped moving and I realized belatedly that the music had stopped. Stepping back I looked toward the ochestra where the moronic managers stood. Fear coiled in the pit of my stomach and suddenly I realized just how stupid Erik was being. He was still a wanted man and he had come to the Masquerade Ball _again _dressed in the _same _costume he had worn previously. Was he trying to get himself killed? I'd never forgive him if he did.

"Erik," I hissed quietly. "tell me, just what the _hell _were you thinking? Do you realize how dangerous it is for you to be here again and blatantly showing off your presence?"

"In my defense, I didn't think anyone I cared about would be here. I can take care of myself but now that you've shown up and associated yourself with me there's no telling what will happen."

He was right. When it was just him he didn't have to worry that much about being safe, if something terrible happened he could just keep riding right on out of the country. My being here had thrown that all out the window; suddenly he had someone else to think about. This wasn't a situation that I could get myself out of or take care of myself while in. And it wasn't just my safety he had to worry about, but what they would claim because of me. I could be his lover, his hostage, or an innocent bystander. Everything depended on what they would decide.

* * *

><p><strong>"Kill la fop, long live Erik and his smexy tight pants" Was a review for A Mirror And A Rose (The precursor to this) by Raveen92. I don't know if Raveen92 is out there, reading this, but she should know that I loved that review so much I printed it out and taped it above my mirror in my bedroom so I can laugh withat it everyday. I couldn't resist putting it in here when I decided to do a Masquerade. XD**

**This was such a long chapter I had to split it in half! The next half isn't going to be up immediately because it's still being written but rest assured it will be up soon. I hope.**


	12. Chapter 11

**I told you it was a huge chapter. The last one was over 3,000 words and this one probably will be too. Then again, the more of this I write the more it feels like it could have been broken into two chapters elsewhere. Oops.**

**In case you didn't figure it out, I don't own Madame Bovary; some French guy does. I really did try to read the book but I just couldn't stand that woman. Grrrr.**

**Also, am I the only one who's glad that Elizabeth's finally getting a clue? I mean, I know I'm the one writing her but I swear my fingers just kind of move over the keyboard. There is very little here that I plan. I did have a little funny moment planned for the Masquerade scene but things suddenly went an entirely different direction. I do actually have the dialogue for it written because it was one of those moments where I was mid-chapter and the scene just popped into my head so I had to get it down. Would any of you care to read it?**

* * *

><p>"It seems that while Firman and I were, er, making merry with some of the cast members" Was that what they were calling it here? "that some uninvited guests have mande their way in and caused a disturbance. Rest assured that they will be taken care of and no harm will come to anyone here."<p>

Shit. Erik tugged on the back of my skirt before slowly making his way toward the stairs. _That will never work. _I thought and for good reason. The easiest was to find the intruders (because the managers were so out of it I doubt they could figure it out just by looking at the crowd) was to announce that they were looking for them and wait to see who tried to leave. I slowly meandered my way after Erik but already I could tell we had been spotted. Honestly, the two people who didn't blend in moving suspiciously across the room. Who could be the univited people? Hmmm.

I had just caught up with Erik when I heard a commotion behind me. Several officers were charging through the crowd at us hell bent on arresting us. Erik shoved me toward the auditorium door and turned back to face the officers who had been joined by a few of the braver nobles.

"No! If I'm running so are you! Dammit, come on Erik! We have to get out of here!"

I grabbed his hand and yanked him after me into the darkened room. Erik might have been here when this place was built, but I had found a few little shortcuts while exploring at night. Kicking off my heels and lifting my skirts I sprinted down the aisle toward the orchestra pit.

"Elizabeth! Where are you going?"

"To the Torture Chamber!" I shouted back over my shoulder. "Woe to those that follow!"

Without even pausing to think about it I jumped down into the pit and zig-zagged my way through and into the first cellar. Erik appeared by my side and began leading me down into the bowels of the Opera. There was a crash followed by a loud curse behind us and I looked back long enough to see the officers plowing through the various instruments behind us.

Down, down through the maze of cellars we went until Erik came to a stop between the set piece and the scene from Roi de Lahore in the third cellar. He fumbled with the stone for a few minutes, clearly shaken, before I shoved him to the side and opened the trap door. Into the infamous Torture Chamber we plunged with the officers hot on our heels.

The hidden door was just clicking into place as the torture chamber was flooded with men. Panting and covered in sweat I slipped into Erik's room to change into a pair of his pants and a shirt. My hair had tumbled down from its elegant style and hung about my shoulders looking wind blown.

"What shall we do about them?" Erik asked.

"Well," I sighed handing him a spare mask. "we only have two options. We could leave them there to die or we could let them leave but they would make their way back here again with more people and die. Either way they end up dead. So the real question is, should we give them a fighting chance and let them go?"

Erik faced away from me before yanking off the Death mask and replacing it with the spare one that didn't cover his entire face. I didn't realize just how many layers he had on until he started pulling them off one by one until he was left in just his shirt, pants, and boots._ I wonder if he still feels so cold._

I relaxed into an armchair by the fire and watched him pace back and forth. Really he was in a predicament. He could let them die, have more murder charges laid against him, and keep up his image. Or he could let them go, have more people wind up in his home, and look like he was going soft.

But wait a moment, wasn't there a third option here? I could always go in and let them leave without him being involved. That way he wouldn't be charged with more murders and still keep his image as a ruthless bastard. I would be the one who looked soft which didn't really matter because no one knew who I was besides Christine, Achmed, Darius, and Erik.

The instant he left the room I pounced on the door to the Torture Chamber. I wretched the door open and strode into the Chamber which was already getting quite warm. Six pairs eyes locked on me and no one moved.

"I'm letting you go. You'll die if you're left in here and I can't see that happen. You should at least have a fighting chance. If you all are stupid enough to come back, well, I'm not going to save your sorry asses again."

I was met with nothing but blank stares. Damn.

"Uh, mort ici." I said, indicating the room. "Non mort il ya." I pointed toward the entrance to the Chamber. "Vous libre."

Not a bit of what I had said was correct in any sense, just words one after the other. I didn't have much of a choice, though; I only knew a handful of words and Erik had taught me a few others. I was halfway across the Chamber intending to open the door when a hand clamped around my arm. I turned to see the officers crowding around me and reaching out.

The scream was barely out of my mouth before Erik was there, fury rolling off of him in waves. The men said something to which he replied angrily to. I stared at Erik completely panicked and at a loss as to what I should do. There was too many for me to try to break free and Erik couldn't really snatch me away from them.

"What did you do, Elizabeth?"

"I was going to let them leave! If I did it you would keep your reputation as a ruthless murdering bastard without having more murder charges laid against you. I tried to explain but I barely speak French, as you frequently point out."

He stared at me in disbelief. "You are an idiot."

I had kind figured that one out already. Clearly cornered men here were no different than cornered twenty-first century men. I watched helplessly as Erik tried to negotiate with the men but things didn't seem to be going so well. If he hid his emotions better this wouldn't be such a problem, but it was obvious that he cared if I lived or died. All he had to do was convince them that he didn't care and they would most likely let me go.

I was broken out of the small trance I had fallen into when by something moving behind Erik's line of vision. One of the men had broken away from the group and was making his way up behind Erik, knife in hand.

"ERIK!" I shrieked. "Behind you!"

He spun, neatly avoiding the knife that had been on a collision course with his shoulder. All hell broke loose and I was roughly tossed to the side. My head slammed into the corner of the iron tree and a sharp pain exploded above my eye.

As everything went black I saw Erik at work, fighting for his life with just a Punjab lasso. However this time he wasn't fighting for just himself, but for me as well. My last thought was that I was going to kill him if he got himself hurt.

-E-

Warmth. There was a distinct warmth enveloping my right hand. Whatever I was laying on was rather hard and no where near comfortable. The sofa, perhaps? A hand brushed a curl from my forehead and a gentle squeeze on my hand helped rouse me.

My eyes opened slowly to Erik kneeling beside me. I was indeed on the sofa but I had no idea how I'd gotten there. Erik breathed a sigh of relief and smiled slightly.

"Don't ever do that again. I thought I was going to loose you."

"What?" I was surprised at how hoarse my voice was.

"Why did you do something so stupid, Elizabeth? You could have died, do you realize that? I was so. . .frightened when you screamed, my heart must have dropped clear to the floor. Then you were thrown into the iron tree and you stopped moving. I thought my greatest fear was coming true." He bit his lip. "Please don't ever scare me like that again."

He was almost tender as he bandaged my forehead and cleaned the blood from my face. I didn't know why he was taking care of me like a child but I was content to let him. Erik forced me to eat a light dinner, gave me something for the pain, and sent me off to bed. Whatever he had given me-one of his creations, no doubt-had me stumbling over my own feet just trying to get into my room.

When I next regained consciousness something didn't feel right in the house by the lake. There was absolutely no light coming under the door which was a good tip off that there was something wrong. Erik never let the fire in the main room go out, partially for warmth and so I wouldn't kill myself by tripping over something in the middle of the night. Usually there was a slight glow that made it's way to my room since it wasn't very far from the fireplace.

Channeling my ninja skills I crept out of bed and shoved my feet in a pair of slippers that were beside my bed. Had Erik left me here alone?_ No, he wouldn't have done that when I'm hurt_. My ears strained listening for any sound as I slipped out of my room and made my way down the hall to Erik's room. Realistically I knew his door wasn't that far from mine but it felt like I had walked miles by the time I reached it.

Erik didn't stir as I entered his room which was just another proof of how exhausted he was. Any other time he would have sensed the strangeness in the house and woken long before I did. I tip-toed to his bedside, unable to see anything but a slightly darker shadow in the middle of the bed.

"Erik!" I hissed. Nothing. "Erik, wake up!" I poked him and jumped back. Nothing. "Come on, Erik, get up! There's something wrong." Nothing. "Erik your pants are on fire." Nothing. "Christine just threw herself from the top of the Opera House." Nothing. "Nadir's pregnant with your child." Nothing. "Oh for the love of god, wake up!" I grabbed his shoulders and shook him roughly.

Thin hands latched around my neck and started squeezing. I squeaked and clawed at his fingers, trying to loosen them. I cursed myself mentally; I should have known this would happen. I managed to wheeze out his name and the hands disappeared instantly from my throat.

"What were-" He started but I clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Shh." I whispered. "Something's wrong, Erik. Can you feel it? It woke me up. I think someone's in the house."

The house thrummed with an evil intention and a feeling of invasion. I didn't know how someone had gotten into the house but they had. If it had been someone in the Chamber the alarm would have gone off so someone had to have found their way into the house itself. Erik stiffened as he finally paid attention to vibe in the air and his eyes flashed in the dark.

He stalked out of the room and I followed right behind him. If there was anyone in that house I wasn't going to be alone by myself. I didn't bother grabbing anything to use should we find someone because it was completely pointless. My head still throbbed so strongly that I had no doubt the instant I tried to do anything vertigo would crash over me, and that's assuming Erik would let me.

No fire burned within the house yet the closer to Erik's private study we got the more light that appeared. What on Earth would someone be after in there? I knew Erik had countless jewels and priceless works of art but none of that was here. That is, unless he had something hidden in there that I didn't know about.

I jumped as a loud crash came from inside the room. My hand fisted in Erik's shirt sleeve as he reached for the knob. The door swung open in one of those agonizingly slow motions that always take place in horror flicks when the murder's right behind the door. Problem being the murderer was who I was hiding behind. So, actually, I guess the person hiding behind the door in this case would be the moronic victim.

A man stood hunched over the desk, digging through papers while a lantern glowed faintly beside him. I ducked behind Erik and peeked around his arm.

"Loose something?"

The man's head flew up and I recognized him instantly; that spun-gold hair could only belong to one person.

"Vicomte," I sneered. "isn't this a bit petty even for you? Breaking into another person's home, honestly."

"Another girl, Phantom? Aren't you getting tired of kidnapping women?" He turned to me. "Come, I'll get you out of here."

How dare he assume! That was two people now who thought I was being held against my will. Really, a guy kidnaps a girl _one_ time. . .

"For your information, Fop, I am _not_ being held here against my will. I happen to _love_ Erik's company and don't want to be 'gotten out of here'. Why are you even here?"

"Christine's missing and I just know you've taken her!" He fumed.

"Do you _see_ any sign of her here?" Erik asked. "I don't even see why you would think I would take her. To be honest I don't really care where she is although I suppose I should. You're her fiance, so she's _your _responsibility."

"Wow, Erik." I said awkwardly. "That was, ah, kind of harsh."

He turned to face me, completely ignoring the Fop.

"I'm sorry, my dear. The Fop, as you call him, was threatening my happiness. Just because his happiness ran does not mean he should try to take mine."

I didn't know if I should 'aww' or facepalm. While it was cute that he considered me his happiness this was neither the time nor the place. If he wanted to be all adorable he could save it for later.

"Where is she, Phantom? I know you have her."

I glared at him. "Neither of us have seen her since I brought her to visit. I know I didn't even see her at the ball."

"What do you mean, 'brought her to visit'? And she disappeared last week."

"And you're just now looking for her?" Erik asked incredulously.

"Seriously? What kind of _fiancé_ doesn't go looking for his fiancée when she first goes missing? You are the worst fiancé ever. Get the hell out of my sight and stop harassing us."

The Fop sputtered at being spoken to that way, protesting loudly that he was worried the entire time she had been missing. Erik drug the still complaining Vicomte out of the house by his shirt collar and threw him into the lake. Sucks to him if he couldn't swim. What I wanted to know was _how_ did he get into the house in the first place?

I yawned, stretching like a cat. _Ugh I hate being woken up in the middle of the night. _With my hands out in front of me I started slowly shuffling toward the kitchen, praying I would trip and die. Erik's hand arrested mine and he started leading me through the house. I wondered vaguely where he was taking me but I was too tired to really care. We stopped suddenly and I stumbled into his back. My arms wrapped around him without my telling them to, trying to keep my balance. I blushed and yanked back from him.

He chuckled and moved away, leaving me standing in the dark all by myself. A light flared against one wall as he lit a fire and illuminated the entire room. Erik immerged from one of the cubbies, bottle of wine in hand.

"I figured you were headed this way. You always come out here and get a drink whenever you're awake in the middle of the night." He said, pouring a glass and offering it to me.

"No, thank you. I don't drink." He looked at me, thoroughly confused. "My father was an alcoholic and his entire family drinks heavily. It may not be a genetic disorder but the tendency will be there. Honestly, I'm afraid to have even a sip of wine."

"So what have you been drinking this entire time?"

"Water." I said innocently.

"Water! Don't you realize how dangerous that is?"

"Chill Erik," I said, moving into the cold storage. "I boiled it first."

We sat in a compaionable silence, me with my cup of cold water and he with his glass of very expensive wine. Sometimes that man confused me to no end, if that even made sense. Here he was acting like a completely civilized gentleman and not even twelve hours ago he had been a man hell-bent on murdering a group of people. In fact, he probably _had _killed them all.

He walked me to my room, catching me every time I tripped over the perfectly smooth and level floor. Erik waltzed into my room, despite my embarassment, to relight my candle before bidding me goodnight.

"Night." I called to his retreating back. "Oh, and, Erik? I thought you should know that I'm going back to Achmed's in the morning."

* * *

><p><strong>Guess what I just saw at the bottom of a web page? An ad for a Happy Feet Two plushie named Erik. Yes Erik with a 'k'. My first thought: The Phantom Penguin!<strong>

**I apologize, I wrote that bit right there *points at previous paragraph* at around four in the morning. I'm still entertained by the mental image of a Phantom Penguin though. "The Phaaaaaaaaaaaantom of Antartica is theeeeeere, insiiiiiiide your igloooooo!" Oh, I crack myself up.**

**This chapter was kind of...strange. A lot of random stuff went on and Erik's getting all romantic. It's weird.**


	13. Chapter 12

**Reality demanded I come back, obviously. I'm actually supposed to be studying a skeleton right now but my brain is fried. NaNo as a full time nursing student just didn't happen and I apologize that I got your hopes up about having fast chappies then dropped off the face of the earth. Should anyone care, I had to come up with an image of Erik for this chapter and I'll put it up over at missculleniwish(dot)webs(dot)com. I had a mental image of him but it was very indistinct so I sat down with photoshop and pieced him together. XD The picture will be up after I get home (in an hour or two) seeing as it's on my netbook, which is sitting on my bed.  
><strong>  
><strong>Oh, and, I have a mission for you all. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT SO READ IT! I recently found out how Elizabeth is coming across to everyone and it's <em>not <em>how I thought she was. I need you guys to tell me exactly how she seems and what you want to see/read. If she seems like she's being an insensitive bitch tell me! From my end she doesn't seem that way. She _has_ grown a brain in her time there but the trick is getting her to _use _it. -.-**

* * *

><p>I walked through the crowded Paris streets, not entirely caring about all the strange looks I was getting being dressed in heels and men's clothing. Lord knows I would have gotten even more if I had still been wearing my ball gown from the night before. After all Erik was a criminal and I was assumed to be one now that I had been seen with him. But that's assuming that they knew who I was, which they didn't, and that I would be recognized, which I wouldn't. Eveyone who was at the ball last night was now so hung over they couldn't move.<p>

Everyone, that is, except Erik. That man could hold his wine like no other so his being drunk had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn't been around this morning. No, I suspect it had everything to do with my telling him I wasn't staying. His face had fallen and that sad loook that had filled his eyes when I'd first met him came flooding back. Erik hadn't protested, hadn't asked me to stay, hadn't even asked why I was going. If he _had_ asked I would have told him why I was going back to Achmed's place.

To him I must have seemed the cruelest person in the world. I knew he cared for me and it must have come across that I was stomping on his heart in a pair of metal cleats, but I wasn't. Really. I just. . .I just couldn't stay in that house by the lake, no matter how much I loved being there. Erik just threw me off so much. I've never had anyone besides my family care for me so much and I don't know what to do or how to act around him. Erik's always so passionate with everything he does an it honestly frigthens me a little bit. I'm a meek little person who's always kept everything bottled up inside and never let anyone in. How am I supposed to let him know that I don't regard him as just a place to stay? Guys are so confusing.

Cherokee nickered at me as I walked up to the front door and I gave her a quick pat.

"Lucy, I'm home!" I called. "Oh, Achmed! Darius!"

"Ma'am!" A flurry of petticoats flying down the stairs cried.

Brigit nearly bowled me over in her excitement. She clung to me, vowing to never let me leave the hosue alone again. I lead the hysterical girl into the sitting room and had Darius get her a glass of wine to calm down. _This, _I wanted to say to Erik _this is why I couldn't stay.  
><em>  
>"Were you really that worried about me?"<p>

"Oh, yes, ma'am! Mister Khan was in a right state of panic when you didn't come home. All he kept saying over and over again was that Master was going to kill him if you was hurt."

Achmed walked in, carrying a glass of wine which he gave to Brigit. He looked hard at me for a moment before settling down in an armchair across from Brigit and I.

"Where were you last night, Mademoiselle?"

"With Erik, of course. His moment of incredible idioticy resulted in us being chased down to the house by the lake. I was forced to stay the night there because I had a nasty blow to the head thanks to Paris's finest."

"You. . .left him down there. . .with an angry mob after him?"

"Hardly." I snorted. "He dealt with the mob while I was out cold. The only thing I left him down there with was an annoyed Vicomte trying to stumble his way around the cellars. The moron seemed to think Erik had kidnapped Christine again and had broken into the house."

Achmed looked a bit sheepish and I sent him a stern look. We both knew exaclty why and how the Fop knew how to get to the house by the lake. Erik wasn't the only one who'd had a serious lapse in judgment at one point in time.

"Oh, but, ma'am! You're alive! Do you want me too look after that injury of your's?"

"No, Brigit. Eik bandaged me up so I'm sure it'll be fine."

I excused myself and went up to the room Brigit and I shared. Soft white flakes drifted past the window, reminding me that if I were home I'd be watching the Macy's Day Parade and stuffing myself with turkey right about now. You never realize how much you miss the family arguments and fights that come with the holidays until they're not there anymore. Already I had missed my favorite holiday, Halloween, and now I was missing Thanksgiving. Perhaps Christmas?

I adored Christmas time; decorating the tree, singing carols terribly off key, making snow angels, and building snowmen. Maybe I could convince Erik to let me have a Christmas or just decorate a tree. This was one of those things that would happen with or without his permission, except I would decorate my room if he wouldn't let me decorate the house. No matter what he couldn't keep me from singing terribly; that was my favorite part.

Brigit found me a couple of hours later packing up what we had at Achmed's house. She smiled lightly as she helped me into a fresh dress and attempted to tame my wild hair. Brigit had known we were going to go back to the house and apparently she was pleased with herself. She must have won that bet she had going with herself.

Cherokee seemed estatic at being back out riding as she trotted throw the snow flakes falling gently. Seeing all this snow suddnely had me in a Christmas mood and I hummed a little tune as we rode along.

"Do you sing, ma'am?" Brigit asked.

"Very badly. All this snow has me thinking of Christmas. I can't remember the last time I saw snow so early!"

"What do you mean, ma'am? It's usually snowing by the beginning of November."

"Oh not at home it isn't. There have been several years with a brown Christmas instead of white. It's cold enough to snow but it never comes."

I couldn't even remember if last year had been a white Christmas or not. More than likely it hadn't; snow never seemed to come until January and February. Already I was missing the lovely fan-made Christmas songs about animes and the inside jokes I could share with people around the holidays, particularly Catnip Tequila. Yes I missed being able to shout "Catnip Tequila!" at a group of cosplayers and the butler respond with a "Woooo!". Here I'd just get stared at if I did that.

The house came into view, looking warm and inviting with smoke curling from one of the chimneys. I handed Cherokee over to the footman and sent Brigit to take my things up to my room with the order to be as quiet as possible. After all, what a suprise it would be for Erik to turn around and find me standing there!

I followed the sound of a piano playing softly into an area of the house I hadn't yet explored. Erik sat at a grand piano, lost in his music like always. A maid came around the corner, tea tray in hand, and nearly bowled me over. One furiously silent conversation later I stepped into the room with Erik's tea.

He didn't acknowledge my presence as I dropped a teaspoon of sugar and a thick slice of lemon in his cup. I handed him the tea wordlessly and he took a sip before spitting it back out on the rug.

"How many times have I told you never to put sugar in my tea?" He snapped. "Incompetent fool."

"And that is why I say you shouldn't have so much lemon without a bit of sugar. You're too sour for your own good, Erik."

He froze, the delicate teacup slipping from his hand and crashing to the floor. I sighed and bent to pick up the shards before either of us ended up with it in our foot. The bench creaked lightly under him as he turned toward me. I piled the broken teacup on the tray and handed it to the maid who was still hovering outside the door.

"Elizabeth?"

I turned and leaned against the door with my hands behind my back. His cloak thrown across a nearby chair along with his jacket betrayed the fact that he hadn't been home long. Snow drifted past the window making the blazing fire look all the more inviting.

Erik stood and took a step towards me. Then two. Three. His hand raised slightly as if he was reaching toward me. Without my telling them to my feet carried me the rest of the way to him and my arms wrapped themselves around his waist. I briefly considered pulling back but the fact that Erik had looked almost like he was going to cry made me stay where I was. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around my waist and held me awkwardly, as if I was going to dart off because he was holding me.

"I. . .thought you were going back to Nadir's home."

"I did go back to Achmed's, but I never said I was _staying_ there. Brigit was worried sick about me and Achmed had it in his head that you'd kill him if something happened to me on his watch."

"I probably would have." He murmured into my hair, his grip becoming surer. "Why, Elizabeth, you're freezing!"

"Yeah, Erik, it's a long ride from Paris to here through the snow. Even more so when you don't have a jacket."

"Nadir let you leave without some form of protection against the elements?" I could feel the anger radiating off him as he lead me over to the fire.

"I think he believed I had something."

The instant I was settled onto the floor he draped his fur-lined cloak over my shoulders and bent to build up the fire. The firelight flickered over the exposed side of his face, highlighting the soft features. Even if he hadn't been disfigured Erik wouldn't have been a highly attractive man. Don't get me wrong, he _was_ attractive but not in such a way that most people would think him so. If that makes sense.

He was rather baby-faced and it looked odd on such a thin frame. Wide yellow eyes were framed with thick lashes under a heavy angled brow. I suspected his fine nose was virtually non-existent on the other side but his full lips had been spared. To look at Erik head on it wasn't immediately obvious why he wore his mask; only a subtle shadow near the top corner of his left eye hinted at something amiss.

Erik sat on the floor beside me, leaning his back against the loveseat.

"What were you staring so intently at?" He asked, clearly a bit on edge.

"I wasn't staring, I was observing."

"Observing?"

"And contemplating."

"So what, pray tell, were you observing and contemplating?"

"You." I said simply.

His eye twitched but he said nothing. More than likely he wasn't quite sure what to make of me at the moment. Usually when he was stared at it wasn't for any good reason but at the same time I had never brought up the reason he was stared at. Honestly his being disfigured didn't bother me; my mother had raised me not to treat anyone differently just because they didn't look like I did. I had never seen under his mask and granted I was just a teeny bit curious (who wouldn't be?) I respected his privacy and acted as if it wasn't there. If I ever saw under his mask it would either be completely by accident or of his own violation. The former seemed the most likely.

I shivered and tucked myself under Erik's arm. He froze and his heart rate picked up speed under my ear. It was natural for him to be a bit freaked out; I was all up in his Kool-Aid and he hadn't invited me there.

"Relax, Erik." I said, pulling his cloak tighter around me. "I'm freezing and you're warm."

He let out a nervous sort of chuckle. "I'm warm, eh? As warm as an iceberg."

"Compared to me your warm." I yawned. "Now shaddup, I'm sleepy and your sarcasm is hurting my head."

Delicately he laid a hand on my side, though I could barely feel it through the cloak. The fire gave off the only light in the room, the sun having gone down already. It was too early for me to be crashing for the night, but it's difficult to convince yourself of that when you're nearly asleep. I blinked sleepily up at him and he gave me a curious expression.

"You know. . .for such a bony guy. . .you're a comfy pillow."

He shook with laughter and I frowned. A pillow shouldn't move when it was in use. I poked him and said as much, causing him to laugh even harder. Warmed by the fire and comfortable, I fell asleep with my head on Erik's chest.

* * *

><p><strong>It's short, I know. Never fear, there's going to be some cute-ness in the next chapter! (Assuming Erik cooperates, that is.)<strong>


	14. Chapter 13

**This is for Captain Zombie and Erik's Love (on The Fifth Cellar) for poking at me. As I explained to them I had finals this week so I was a bit. . .distracted recently.**

**I told you I'd get it up this weekend, my dear Captain. It took less to finish it than I thought it would. And it might still be as cute as I mentioned it would be. You'll have to be the judge of that.**

* * *

><p>I curled father into a ball as lightning flashed. <em>Son of a banshee!<em> I'd never seen a thundersnow before but I'd heard of them. This was _not _something I wanted to experience. My father had always overreacted when it came to storms and I had been unfortunate enough to be at his house when a bad storm hit. Ever since I've been terrified by storms.

It was the thunder that got me and it was always worse when I was alone. If there was someone else in the room I'd be fine but I was currently alone in my bedroom and, therefore, freaking out. Oh if only I was at home! I'd be watching Disney movies with my mother or be playing with my kittens. Anything to distract myself from the storm.

A crack of thunder sent me flying down the hall in blind fear. I didn't think twice before diving under the black sheets, my only thought to not be alone. The covers flew back from my head and a hand pinned me to the mattress by my throat. Sometimes I could be such an idiot. Lightning flashed and my eyes widened in shock. Above me Erik was maskless and furious.

The brief flash of light cast long shadows across his face, that added with his being furious made it look worse than it was. His regal nose was nearly unrecognizable on the left side, melting into the thin skin stretched across his face. Veins snaked their way across his cheek and forehead, protruding through the skin, before disappearing into his hairline. Dull grey skin clung to every bone, sucked into his hollow cheek and around his eye. I could see why people described him as a living corpse.

"Er. . .ik!" I squeaked.

Fury fled his face and his eyes widened as he realized just who he was slowly strangling. I gasped for air as he rolled away from me, burying his normally-masked side into the pillow. I massaged the abused flesh of my throat, knowing that this time I would wear a bruise for awhile. Thunder rumbled and I whimpered, grabbing the back of Erik's nightshirt.

"Go back to your room."

"Please, Erik, I'm frightened. Let me stay until it stops storming?"

"You wish to stay with a monster to hide from your fears? You _need _to sort out your priorities."

"Look, we can deal with that in the morning. Right now, I'm terrified of storms and-AHHHH!" I screamed as another crack of thunder shook the house.

I curled into a ball and buried my head under the pillow. Tears gathered and tried to spill over but I refused to let them. Crying wouldn't help anything and I knew there wasn't even anything to be afraid of. Erik turned and started rubbing gentle circles on my back. I sighed, relaxing my death grip on the pillow and shuffling closer to his chest. Hesitantly Erik wrapped an arm around my waist as I drifted back to sleep.

-E-

The next morning found me unsurprisingly alone in Erik's bed. Honestly, I was more shocked he hadn't moved me back to my bed at some point. I stretched, thinking to myself that I hadn't had such a good night's sleep in awhile. Brigit came into the room carrying a fresh set of clothing and turned as red as her hair when she saw me sitting on the bed. Confused, I looked down. Nope, my high-necked nightgown was still there.

"Oh! I'll, um, give you a moment to. . .cleanse yourself Ma'am."

Fury filled me as I realized just what she was insinuating.

"How dare you. How _dare _you assume something like that about Erik and I. You may insult my honor and drag my reputation through the mud all you want but _never_ insinuate that Erik is anything but a gentleman! For your information I am terrified of storms and ran here out of fear. Erik was kind enough to comfort me and I happen to fall asleep."

I had never struck someone but in that instant I really wanted to. Brigit was wisely silent as she helped me get ready for the day. I did feel bad about yelling at her the way I had, but I had to squash any rumor before it could take root and correct her for assuming something so scandalous about her Mistress. For a moment, I couldn't believe myself. Just a month ago I didn't want anything to do with a maid and didn't agree with being called Mistress.

The instant she had finished I took off in search of Erik. I didn't honestly think he would believe a bit of what I was going to say but I had to try. If he was left on his own Lord only knows what his imagination would come up with. Even now he could have himself convinced that I was running away screaming and he just couldn't hear me.  
>I found him sitting in the dinning room, picking at a piece of fruit. He glanced up as I filled a plate and made my way to a seat. The instant I sat down he stood up to leave and I yanked him back down by his sleeve.<p>

"Stay. Finish your breakfast."

He sat back down slowly as I dug into my own breakfast. I was really going to miss whoever his cook was when I went back home; the food was delicious. Erik watched me intently as I patted my lips with a napkin, trying to have some dignity.

"What?"

"Do you always eat like that?"

"I'm American, in case you've forgotten. We're not exactly known for our graceful ways. And besides that, you'd know how I ate if you showed up for a meal once in a while."

He made a non-committal sound as I picked up a slice of baget and bit into it. I moaned as the deliciously warm bread melted on my tongue.

"Whoever your cook is, Erik, double his pay."

He chuckled. "I don't think it would be wise for me to pay myself. I would constantly be asking for a raise!"

"What?" I nearly choked on my food. "_You _make this?"

"You seem surprised."

"Well let's just say you as a person are not known for your culinary skills, even if you are French." I said wryly.

I couldn't think of a single version of Erik who could cook. The Leroux version, if I remember correctly, made Christine a "yellow slop" and was extremely proud of it. Understandably I assumed those godawful cooking skills was distributed to every version of him.

"I am assuming that you'll be leaving to find a way home? I shall say goodbye now so that you may avoid me the rest of the day."

"Huh?" _Real graceful, Elizabeth._

"You're leaving, I'm sure. It only makes sense. No one in their right mind would want to stay with a monster."

"Oh Christ, Erik. Is this because of your face?" He looked away, silently admitting it was. "Nothing I ever say will convince you, will it? No, don't bother answering me. I know I won't be able to convince you but I can try. Erik I can promise you that I don't care what you look like."

"We are not having this conversation, Elizabeth. I expect you to be gone by dinner." He said, fleeing the room.

"And where am I supposed to go, Erik?" I asked, hot on his heels.

"Nadir's again, perhaps?"

"You're impossible, you know that? I left then because I had fucked up royally and you were super pissed. You're not angry at me this time so I have no reason to run."

He rounded on me. "And what makes you think I'm not angry with you?"

"Look," I said. "you_ need_ to come to terms with this. It's not my fault nor is it your fault, it happened before you were_ born_, Erik. Just because I know-and I did before-doesn't mean it's the end of the world!"

He leaned on the mantle, looking weary and defeated. "Just leave, Elizabeth. Everyone always does in the end. Please, just leave. The longer you stay the more painful it will be."

"But I don't _want _to leave. Will you at least look at me? Erik, look at me!" I strode over and turned his face in my direction. He still wouldn't look me in the eye. "Hey, come on. I'm never going to convince you of anything unless you trust me enough to look at me." Hesitantly his gaze turned in my direction. "I know enough about you to know how you've been treated, Erik. People running from you is all you know, all you've ever experienced. I don't know if it was the way my mother raised me or if there's just something different in my head, but I don't pay attention to how anyone looks. I swear on my own soul that I don't. What I care about is how someone is on the inside; beauty's only skin deep after all. "

"Well then I'm just a disappointment all around, aren't I? I'm a monster inside and out."

"Dammit Erik, have some self respect._ Yes _you've done terrible things, I'm not trying to condone them."

"So then what are you trying to do, Elizabeth? I've yet to figure out why you're still here."

"Maybe because I like you? Has that thought ever made it's way into your thick skull? Of course it hasn't." I laid a wrist against my forehead, playing up the melodrama. "Oh, woe is Erik! No one ever sees Erik for himself! Well guess what Erik," I said, dropping all pretenses. "you've got someone in front of you who does see you for who you are and you're just kicking her to the side. Way to go, you moron."

I turned to go and hesitated. This wasn't how I had planned this conversation but Erik was so impossible at times. Honestly, I'm not even sure what we were arguing about. What was underneath his mask? Well, that had started it. His unwillingness to listen to me? That was a good portion.

"All we ever do is fight." I murmured on my way out.

The library was the most inviting place at that moment, the crackling fire calling to me from across the house. I was more than willing to bend to the firplace's demands that I curl up in front of it with a book. The first book I grabbed was, thankfully, in English and one of my particular favorites. And so, it was in the company of Miss Eliza Bennett that Erik found me an hour or so later.

He wandered around the room a bit before ever even saying anything. From my spot curled on a couch I silently followed his movements, the novel only holding half of my attention. Once you've read Jane Austen you've gotten almost everything out of it, after all.

"Elizabeth, I. . .wanted to apologize for my behavior toward you earlier."

"And I'd like to say I'm sorry for arguing with you about something so stupid. You didn't want to talk about it so I should have shut up. I get pushy and bossy sometimes."

"As do I. It was an issue you clearly wanted to address but I selfishly refused to allow you."

"You weren't being selfish, Erik. I was the selfish one for trying to make you talk about something that makes you uncomfortable."

He stopped before one of the large windows and stared out blankly at the still-falling snow. I hadn't paid much attention to it, myself. After being on crutches during the winter sophomore year I wasn't as fond of the fluffy stuff as I once was. My mother used to have to drag me out of the snow right up until said winter and since then I haven't gone out and played in it as much.

Then again, my mother also claimed it was childish and refused to come outside with me, even to build a snowman. When you're an only child and there is no one your age that lives around you playing in the snow (or any form of playing, for that matter) sucks beyond belief. Imaginary friends are nice and all, just not every moment of every day.

"There's quite a bit of snow out there. It looks like we won't be leaving the house for a while."

"Oh?" I said absentmindedly. "How much snow?"

"I'd say a little more than half a meter."

"American please? Oh, wait, a meter's three feet right?"

"Indeed it is."

"So you're telling me there's, like, two feet of snow on the ground out there? From one storm? I don't believe you."

"Come see for yourself, then."

I sighed and put down my book. No doubt Erik was overestimating or exaggerating, although neither of those sounded like something he would do. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the brilliant white blanket covering everything so that I could even see anything outside.

"Oh wow," I breathed. "I've never seen so much snow in all my life! Come on, Erik, let's go play in it!"

And so it was dragging Erik through the house that I realized something had changed with us. Or, rather, something had changed with me. For one thing I wasn't pulling him after me by his wrist as I always had; his hand was clasped firmly in mine. I also noticed that I wasn't really pulling him after me like I thought I was. Erik was willingly following me, making it pointless for me to be holding his hand and tugging him. He seemed completely comfortable with the situation which made me wonder just how long I had been doing this.

I awkwardly let go of him and tugged on a long coat, gloves, and earmuffs. Erik wordlessly handed me a knit scarf which I knotted around my throat before running outside. Snow extended in every possible direction, covering everything in a white blanket. Throwing all maturity to the wind I ran out into the snow as far as I could as before falling flat on my face.

"Elizabeth!"

Rolling over I reached up and yanked on the back of Erik's cloak. Startled he tumbled into the snow next to me, sending snow flying everywhere. I burst out laughing at what I imagined his expression was and he joined in a moment later.

"What on Earth was that for?"

"Oh come on Erik," I laughed. "when's the last time you were childish?"

"I don't believe I ever was."

"God, you act like you're in your fifties! How old are you, anyway?"

"Well," He thought for a moment. "I would guess somewhere around my mid-twenties."

"What?" I twisted upright and leaned over him. "You cannot be that young!"

"Twenty-four would probably be a good estimate." He said, seeming to not have heard me.

"Twenty-four?" I squeaked. "But then. . .but that means. . .then we're. . .oh my god, this isn't happening!"

I buried my face in my hands and shook my head in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't _supposed_ to be happening. Erik was supposed to be old enough to be my father, not my brother or. . .or. . ._or someone you'd date_. I resolutely shoved that little voice into a far corner of my mind. Erik and I would never date! The idea was laughable. We weren't. . .we didn't. . .did we?

"Elizabeth, is everything alright?"

"Y-yes, I suppose it is. Excuse me."

More than a little confused I stood and wandered aimlessly across the yard. Suddenly my entire relationship with Erik was thrown into question and my mind was reeling. Erik had been so nice to me most of my time here but had there been something more behind it? Had he been. . ._flirting_ with me?

I wasn't even sure why I was so worried, I wasn't the kind of girl Erik would go for anyway. Apparently he was into the moronic-child type and I wasn't really either. I could be an idiot at times and childish but I certainly wasn't as stupid as Christine._ And _I had a range of emotions that didn't consist of a blank stare. Perhaps he had a thing for lack of emotions?

Snow slapped lightly into the back of my head, effectively yanking me out of my thoughts. I whipped around to see Erik standing nonchalantly a little ways away. He hadn't just. . .

"I thought you were never childish?"

"I'm usually not but you're bring the child out of me."

"You act like that's a bad thing." I said, bending and gathering snow in one hand.

Without warning I launched the snowball at him and it smacked him right in the face. He stared at me in shock for a moment before giving me a mischievous grin and throwing another handful of snow at me. Laughing, I dogged it and ran across the yard as best I could.

Another snowball whizzed by my face and I knew Erik was purposely missing so as not to ruin my fun. I gasped for air as I struggled to run through the nearly hip-deep snow. It had been a stupid idea to try running through this crap and actually doing something in gym class would have helped. Note to self: start working out.

My body finally refused to keep moving and collapsed into the cold snow. I laid there breathing heavy and praying to whatever deity might exist that Erik had seen me go down and wouldn't run over me. His concerned face appeared above me and he frowned.

"You shouldn't take naps in the snow, Elizabeth. You might be snowed over and run over."

"I'm sorry, Erik. The nargles pulled me down."

"Nargles?"

"Oh yes, they're dastardly little creatures who steal things and live in mistletoe. They were trying to spirit me away."

"Well we can't have that!"

He pulled me up and filled the hole with snow to 'keep the Nargles inside'. Oh dear. I hope he knew I was joking. I may blame Nargles for things disappearing but they're not _real_. Although, judging by the look in Erik's eye, I'd say he was playing right alongside my inner child.

"You know, we should make sure we get rid of them. They demand a human sacrifice!" I cried, shoving Erik over into the snow.

"Then two should make them so happy they go away forever!"

He reached up and yanked on the back of my skirt and I flailed, looking for anything solid. Erik grunt as I landed hard, half on him and half in the snow. I covered my mouth in horror and stared at him.

"Oh my god, are you alright? Erik I'm so sorry!"

"No, no, it's fine. Are _you _alright?"

"Hush, you're hurt! Where'd I hurt you?"

I scrambled off of him and frantically started looking for some form of injury.

"Elizabeth, I'm fine! I wasn't expecting you to land on me and it knocked the wind of me."

I made an apologetic sound and pressed a quick kiss to his abused chest.

"There, all better!" He stared at me in disbelief. "What?"

* * *

><p><strong>Eh, it's not as cute as I'd planned on it being. Elizabeth decided to grow a brain and it ruined a lot of what I had planned.<strong>

**There will be a Christmas chapter, but I'm not promising it'll be out by Christmas. I will get it done by the end of the month, though. I'm done with classes now so I should have plenty of time to write! :)**


	15. Chapter 14

**Erm. . .it's short. Sorry. Elizabeth just wants to skip Christmas and move on. This would have been finished in time for Christmas but I keep getting distracted planning my next cosplay. Grr at myself.**

**And no claiming I didn't make it by the end of the month! It's still 2011 here. :D**

* * *

><p>Snow may be fun but it tended to make one cold and, therefore, cause them to come down with a cold. Erik was insistent that I not move an inch from where he put me in front of the fireplace and that I not remove a single one of the six blankets he had draped around me. He meant well but this was a bit much.<p>

"Is there anything I can get for you, Elizabeth?"

"Internet?"

It was the same thing I had been asking for for the past hour and a half. All I wanted was the internet so I could mindlessly surf. I was miserable and I wanted to read some fanfiction, dammit!

"How about something I know of?"

"Uhhmm do you have any chocolate?"

"Chocolate? That won't help you get better."

"Ya huh!" I nodded vigorously. "Chocolate makes everything better. So does Robitussin but that shit tastes awful. Chocolate tastes nice. Can I has chocolate?"

He rolled his eyes and made his way to the door. "Very well, I'll go make you some hot chocolate. Perhaps it'll make you tired and you'll be quiet for awhile."

"With milk!" I called after him.

The instant he was out of site I shed all but one blanket and shuffled down the hall to the music room. Sick or not I could only stare at the fire for so long before I _had_ to find something else to do. I settled down in front of the piano bench and tentatively pressed a key. Would Erik get angry if I played around a bit?

Another note rang out as I pressed a different key. Why_ would_ he get angry? He's such a music lover. . .surely it would be alright for me to practice? But then again it was one of his precious instruments. Damn him for being so bipolar.

I listened hard for any sign of Erik coming this way but heard only silence. With a mental shrug I stretched a hand out and pressed a few keys. Still there was no sign of Erik approaching. _Oh to hell with it!_ I sniffled and started playing one of the few songs I knew. Of course, me being a compulsive singer I couldn't stop myself.

_"Yesterday. . .all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday. Suddenly. . .I'm not half the man I used to be. There's a shadow hangin' over me. Oh, yesterday came suddenly."_

"I didn't know you could play."

I jumped "Oh, Erik! I'm sorry, I'm getting my sick germs all over your piano."

"It's fine." He said, handing me my hot chocolate. "You still never mentioned that you could play. The terrible singing I knew of, but the actual musical ability I didn't."

"I resent that. I can play alto saxophone pretty darn good. Kind of. Piano I'm not so hot at, I just taught m'self this year. I can only do the one hand and really slow."

"You were just playing with both hands." He pointed out.

"And there-in lies the only exception and only because they're both real simple. I get frustrated a-cause I know I can play the harder music but when I go to do it I'm like uh. . . I can't get my fingers to listen to my head and play the silly song."

"How often do you practice? I've never seen or heard you do so."

"I get frustrated easy Erik. I can't even get my head to read both lines of music at the same time."

"But. . .then how are you learning songs?"

"There's this lovely thing called Synthesia an' it shows you the keys to hit. You download it and hook your piano to your computer. Viola."

He looked at me as if I'd lost my mind, reminding me that he had no idea what I was talking about.

"Sorry, I forget you don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout most the time. It's technology stuff. Won't even start to show up until the '80s."

"Elizabeth we're _in_ the '80s."

"I meant the 1980s. Sorry. First computer we had was a '98. Slow as crap, too." I rambled.

He gave me a confused look. "How old are you, Elizabeth?"

"You don't ask a lady her age, Erik." I said, setting down my hot chocolate. "And anyway I'm eighteen. A very Average an' childish eighteen."

"I feel like I may be missing something with the 'average' comment."

"You are."

"But, if I may ask, when were you _born_?"

"I don't see why it matters but 1993. You were born in" I thought hard for a moment "1858, yeah? Whoa. . .my great-great-grandfather isn't even alive yet!"

That wasn't something that had crossed my mind at all. How trippy. I'd never thought of how much older than me Erik actually was.

"You shouldn't be in here, Elizabeth. You should have stayed in the parlor where it was warm."

"Yeesh, Erik! I've only got the sniffles. People don't die of little colds."

"They may not where you're from but here they do. Come on, back to the parlor with you. I don't want you getting any sicker."

I rolled my eyes. "I appreciate the concern, Erik, but I'll be fine. Promise. The only trouble will be if I end up with _another_ sinus infection. I hate those bloody things."

"You get sick often, then? It seems that I don't know much about you."

"I would suppose not, I haven't been here long. Bunny!"

I pointed excitedly out the window like a child. There on the snow sat a cute little bunny looking cold and frightened. . .and hurt? I rushed to the window and studied the animal more closely. It's leg was sticking out a bit oddly and blood dotted the snow around it.

"Oh, it's hurt!"

"Hmm, so I see. Nothing we can do about it."

I whirled around, shocked. "Erik! How dare you be so uncaring! Perhaps you're as heartless as everyone says."

"On the contrary, I _do_ care. The poor thing probably would die of fright or hurt itself worse if we were to try to capture it."

"Well I'm not going to stand here and watch it get eaten by something!"

Ignoring his shouting behind me I ran out into the snow. The bunny hadn't moved from his spot, oblivious to the cat stalking toward him. I glared in the cat's direction until it caught sight of me and slunk off. Erik's eyes were on me from inside the house as I slowly approached the poor little bunny.

"Shh, it's okay." I soothed. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, little bunny rabbit. I just wanna help ya, little guy."

I slowly extended my hand for him to investigate. Eventually he deemed me trustable and shuffled his way over onto my hand. As gently as I could I laid my other hand over him and made my way back into the house. Erik met me at the door with a small box that I gently laid the little guy in.

"Is there anything you can do, Erik?" I asked quietly.

"Well," He murmured, studying it's leg. "in an ideal situation I would put the rabbit under and sew it's leg back up. In this instance? Can't do much more than calm it down and wrap the leg while it's sleeping."

"Let's name it Flopsie."

He rolled his eyes. "Elizabeth, you're not keeping it."

"Sorry. . .I get attached easy."

"I noticed."

Over the next hour Erik meticulously cleaned and wrapped the bunny's leg while I fluttered about, completely useless. I didn't know the first thing about patching up a wild animal. Give me a pet that trusted people and I'd be fine but a wild bunny? It'd be like giving a stuffed bear to Edward Scissorhands. Disastrous.

After Erik had returned the bunny safely to it's home we sat before the fire in a companionable silence. That is, until Erik had to go and ruin it.

"I never knew you were a lover of animals."

I snorted. "Haven't you paid attention to how I am around Cherokee? Your horse, however. . .he doesn't care for me and I'm smart enough to avoid him."

"Caesar doesn't care much for anyone."

I yawned. "Oh, I'm tired! It's too bad we don't have a tree."

"A tree?"

"Tomorrow's Christmas." I said, standing up to leave. "Good night Erik."

-E-

The next morning I was woken by a gentle knocking on my door. Brigit carefully dressed me in a rich burgundy gown and curled my hair just so. No matter how many times I asked she wouldn't tell me why she was fussing over me so much. It was just Christmas, right?

Brigit nudged me down the stairs and I saw why she'd dolled me up. The entire house had been turned into a winter wonderland with holly and garland strung down the halls. I wandered through the house in awe, my nose taking me to the dinning room.

An impressive spread decorated the sideboard where Erik was just setting down a fresh loaf of bread. He stepped back and gave me a smile, clearly proud of himself.

"You did all of this?"

"Of course I did. I. . .felt bad that I had forgotten about the holiday. You seemed to be a little upset about it so. . ." He trailed off, gesturing to the house in general.

Surprisingly Erik ate with me _and_ I managed to not look like an American. After breakfast Erik disappeared and I wandered around the house, marveling at the decorations. I couldn't believe Erik had done all of this in one night and for just little ol' me.

When I walked into the parlor my breath caught. A fragrant pine tree stood fully decorated in the middle of the room and under it sat a single gold-wrapped box. Oh_ hell_. He'd even gone out and gotten me a gift? I had a moment of panic in which I didn't know what to do as a gift for him but then it hit me.

For the next couple of hours I hid myself away in my room, working on Erik's gift. I couldn't draw worth a damn and anything I made would just be an embarrassment to myself. The only talent I truly had was with words and it was minimal. Still, it was the only shot I had.

"Elizabeth? Would you care to come down for a moment?" He paused. "I have something for you."

"Coming!" I called, fanning the wax seal to cool it.

Erik was waiting for me by the tree, aforementioned box in hand. Despite his best efforts it wasn't hard to tell Erik was eager for me to open his gift. I waved him over to the settee and handed him his gift.

"I'm sorry it's so plain, I didn't have time to wrap it in some way."

He placed the gold-wrapped box in my hands, clearly not giving a damn that he had a gift. I sighed, tugging on the ribbon and lifting the lid. Inside sat a blue velvet box and I shot Erik a look. He didn't. . .

Cautiously I opened the hinged door to reveal a white silk lining. Around a raised pedestal was a golden choker with a delicate flower-and-clover motif along the front edge, set with pearls. I gasped and gingerly lifted the necklace from its resting place.

"Oh, Erik. . .it's beautiful."

"May I?" I turned obligingly and lifted my hair. "I actually picked this up some time ago but as of yet hadn't found an occasion to give it to you. I thought it would be suitable for daily and formal wear."

"Thank you." I murmured before handing him his gift. "And here is yours. It's not the best it could be, but. . ."

Erik gave me a look that clearly said he didn't care about the quality of his gift. All it took to make him happy was the fact that I was giving him anything period. He read through the page quickly before giving me an odd look. As he read through it again more slowly his expression went from one of confusion to realization and finally settled on awe.

_You are my angel, you are my light._  
><em>You save me from harm and fright.<em>

_With you I share my tears,_  
><em>and all my deepest fears.<em>

_Such kindness to share;_  
><em>You give a smile here and there.<em>  
><em>All the pain that you bare,<em>  
><em>Yet, you're always there.<em>

_With you I share my heart,_  
><em>in which you have a part.<em>

"Merry Christmas, Erik."

* * *

><p><strong>The poem is Guardian of The Heart by Eyes Of The Forest, a wonderful poet on deviantArt and used with her permission. Here's the full poem: tinyurl(dot)com(slash)6nctzhf<strong>

**As for the bunny thing. . .I don't even know. Before anyone argues that you can't catch a wild bunny, you _can_ and I _have_. Multiple times. This chapter was just kind of a fail. *sigh***


	16. Chapter 15

**So I randomly decided to read through Masquerade and _dear God_. How on Earth have you all dealt with my typos? I went through updating all the chapters without the bloody things but I may have missed a few. Don't worry, nothing's changed. I simply re-worded a little bit and put in a description of Brigit since I didn't actually have one.**

**I think it goes without saying that Elizabeth has become her own person and can't really be called myself anymore. At the core she's still me but I'm going to start tweaking her a bit in preparation for something that's coming.**

**This chapter...it hates me. I re-wrote it at least three times. Seriously. I'd get halfway through and the muse would stop. Nothing really happens other than Elizabeth being a little coward. I'm trying to wrap this up because we're almost done but my muse won't focus long enough to get out a chapter. Plus, you know, I just started back to school. -.-**

**Oh, remember back in October how I asked for you guys to give me questions? Forgot about that? Yeah, me too. I came across the video I'd done of them lurking in the back corner of my computer last week. I fail. I axed the video (which needed much editing) and typed them up on my Tumblr. If you even still care about them my tumblr is mademoisellefantome(dot)tumblr(dot)com. I _highly_ suggest you read them because there's a lovely announcement in there pertaining to this story. I won't be repeating it here so if you want to be in the loop, go read!**

* * *

><p>It had been three weeks since Christmas and things were rather awkward between Erik and I. Honestly it was entirely my fault. I couldn't fathom what made me write that stupid poem, let alone give it to him. Did I even feel that way about him? Clearly some part of me thought I did and now he believed so too. Damn. So I had done the only thing I could think of; I distanced myself from him and tried to figure out if I did or not.<p>

Erik was extremely confused at my sudden change in attitude, I could tell. What was I supposed to tell him? "Oh, sorry Erik, I wrote that poem and got your hopes up for no reason. You're just a friend!" Yeah. That would go over like a ton of bricks. The only real option I had was to try and sort through my thoughts of him. Hopefully he would understand later.

I had a very good reason for_ not_ wanting to love him. At some point I would be going home and he couldn't come with me, nor could I stay. He was fictional and I wasn't. Should I end up caring for him how would I ever explain to him? It wasn't that I was heartless, it would just be better if nothing ever started between us. Should I end up loving him I _was_going to tell him but in the same breath that nothing could be allowed to come of it. It would crush him no matter what I did. I couldn't win.

"Elizabeth...is something the matter?"

"Hmm?" I looked up from my book. "No, why would you think that?"

"You've been acting strangely. I thought perhaps something had happened to upset you."

"Nope, everything's fine. Is something bother_ you_Erik?"

He shook his head, going back to what he was working on. Oh dear, he was getting worried. Never had I intended to take this long. I turned a page absentmindedly, keeping up the pretense of reading. Bridgit had been unusually absent since Christmas. I didn't think much of it, she was probably spending time with her family. Surely she had some family though I'd never heard her speak of them.

While Erik was absorbed with his papers I took the opportunity to study him. Would it really be such a bad thing to love him, aside from the aforementioned reason? He was a wonderful man despite his past. He was incredibly caring and such a gentleman. Really there was only the one con but it nearly outweighed the many pros.

Oh what to do, what to do? Everything has to be so difficult with Erik. If only he was easier to live with. But, then again, if he was he wouldn't be Erik.

Bridgit burst into the room, effectively breaking my train of thought.

"Ma'am." She dropped a quick courtesy before turning to Erik. "Master, I must speak with you."

"Well go on then."

"You see sir...it's my younger sister. She's fallen extremely ill and is in need of a doctor."

He leaped up and charged from the room. "If she was so ill you should have spoken to me earlier."

For lack of anything else to do I followed Erik up to the third floor where Bridgit's room was. Her sister was laying on the bed with the covers pulled up to her chin and her fiery red hair was soaked, the curls sticking to her face. She was deathly pale and barely breathing.

Erik swore and sent Bridget to call for a doctor. I watched from the corner as he fussed with the girl. Why wasn't he whipping up a herbal remedy for her?

"Erik, you can't help her can you?"

"No, I can't."

"You seriously can't whip up a gypsy remedy? My faith in you is waning, Erik."

"At this point she's too bad for me to simply try something." He paused. "How did you know about that?"

"Long story."

"I thought we were passed all of that."

"Dear god!" I cried, my wrist pressed to against her forehead. "She's burning up! We have to cool her down or that fever will kill her."

I started yanking the heavy blankets from the bed and throwing them to the floor. I knew why they tried to sweat a fever out but for the life of me I couldn't follow their logic. The doctor arrived just as I was stripping the girl to her bloomers. He barely glanced her over before re-clothing and re-covering her.

"All I can do for her is bleed her. Be sure she stays covered at all times."

I watched incredulously as he pulled a jar of leeches from his bag and started attaching them to her body.

"Are you insane?" I blurted. "You'll kill her!"

"Be quiet woman, you know nothing of medicine." He said coldly. "Remove her, will you?"

Erik dragged me from the room and sat me down in the hall.

"Erik...he'll kill her."

"No he won't Elizabeth. Trust him, he _is_a doctor."

"Doctor shmoctor, he has no idea what he's doing. Bleeding someone lowers their immune system so they can't fight any infections. As for keeping her covered, that'll just raise her temperature."

"That would be the point. You burn the fever out."

"No! Once her temp gets to a certain point the enzymes in her body will begin breaking down, which will kill her."

He wasn't paying a bit of attention to me. I sighed heavily. No matter what I was still just a woman. I wouldn't ever be believed because of my gender. Damn these victorian people and their conventions. They would never believe me until she died. Hell, even then they probably won't believe me.

Bridgit paced up and down the hall and Erik went back into the room, leaving me to my thoughts. The longer I was here the less I cared for the time period. Once upon a time it had been my favorite but I hated the way I was treated here. Really I just wanted to go home. I missed the simple things like running water and indoor plumbing. Oh how I missed indoor plumbing!

But how was I to get home? There wasn't some goddess/witch running around that would send me home; that would be too cliche. At the same time there had to be a way for me to get home. Maybe I could walk through a wardrobe to Narnia, find a lamppost, and get home from there? No, that was too out there. And I would end up in England.

The doctor strode confidently from the room, oblivious to the death-glare I sent his way. I was completely intolerant of people who thought any group of people were beneath them. One of the most insightful people I'd ever met was mentally challenged. Everyone was and should be treated equally. Everyone.

Bridgit chared into the room, nearly bowling Erik over.

"Something wrong?" He asked, sensing my slight hostility.

"You were the only on who treated me as an equal and yet you disregarded what I said simply because it wasn't what people here believe. It seems I'm just a helpless woman here after all."

"Elizabeth that's not-"

I held up my hand "No, I don't want to hear it. Should you have need of me I'll be in my room."

-E-

Bridgit's sister didn't make it through the night. The fever I'd warned of ended up killing her early in the morning. When another maid woke me that morning with the terrible news I was physically ill. She was just a small child and worse, I could have saved her. I didn't claim to be a nurse or a doctor but I had enough common sense that I could have bought her some time. All she needed was time for her body to fight off the infection that wracked her small body.

Erik didn't seem affected by it at all and it infuriated me. I understood that things like this weren't uncommon here and that he had seen a lot of death but seriously?

"Do you have no compassion for Bridgit at all?" I exploded.

"On the contrary, I care very much that she has lost the only family she had."

"Well you sure have a funny way of showing it."

"_I_have a funny way of showing it? For the record I stayed with them both all night. And where were you? Hiding in your room because no one was listening to you."

"How dare you! I was hiding as you put it because I couldn't bare the thought that she was going to die because of me. I could have bought her the time she needed but no one would let me."

"Oh so now you're angry because I don't always listen to you?"

"Yes! You _never_ listen to me. God, you're just like my father! Neither of you ever listen to me. Do you realize how much I hate that? How much I hate _him_? Lord I'm on the verge of hating you right now."

That got a reaction out of him. He flinched, looking as if I'd slapped him. What seemed to affect him was that I was dead serious. Really that was probably one of the worst insults I could have thrown at him at this point. Insult his appearance? He was used to that. But nearly hate him when he loved me so much? I was almost causing another Christine incident. All we needed was another de Chagny and the allusion would be complete.

"Really?" He said softly. "It was bound to happen at some point. Did I not predict this?"

"Oh...Erik I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I just...I just can't stand being written off for on reason or another."

"No, don't placate me Elizabeth."

"I'm not, I'm apologizing. I lash out without thinking at times. You just reminded me of my father and I _really_can't stand him."

"I'm not your father."

"I know that, Erik. Childhood trauma, you know? You still have issues with things because of things that happened when you were a kid. Same principle, different degree of strength."

"Hmm, it seems you know more about me than I thought you did. Interesting."

I smirked. "I ought to, I've been a fan of your's for years."

"And how's that? You haven't been here a year."

"Perhaps I'll explain one day."

"So secretive." He teased.

This was what I loved about him. Erik had a lovely knack for diffusing a pointless argument with humor. Well, it was one of the many things I loved about him. Another was his accent, even though it wasn't British. It was decidedly French with overtones of Russian, Italian, and (I assume) Persian. Separate none of them were very attractive but mixed together? Well it very nearly gave a British accent a run for its money.

"I? Secretive? What about you, Monsieur Phantom?"

"Ah, but that's the nature of the job."

I chuckled, but instantly felt a bit bad about it. True I didn't know Bridgit even had a sister until yesterday but I still felt bad about being in a good mood when a small child had just died. Erik seemed to sense my unease and suggested a game of cards to pass the time. As he pulled out two decks of cards I once again regretted my decision to teach him Canasta. I did enjoy the game but he was determined to find a way to win every hand. Really it was the only game I had a hope of winning against him and only because it was a game of luck.

As we played my mind wandered over our relationship. Erik loved me, that much I knew. The question was, did I? I know I care for him a good deal. I also know I enjoy his company. But was that enough? I'd been studying the way I acted around him since Christmas (feeling much like Sheldon Cooper in the process) and I'd discovered something. I tended to hover around him and be a bit clingy. I did the same thing with my pets and my mother; the people I cared about most.

I knew I needed to just face what was going on between us but I really couldn't do it. Not right now. Sometimes I'm too much of a coward for my own good.

"Erik," I said, tossing down my cards. "get dressed. We're going out."

"Out? There isn't a show at the Opera House."

"Never said opera. We are going to the Moulin Rouge!"

* * *

><p><strong>To reiterate, <em>you should go read the Q&amp;A on my tumblr. It contains an important annoucnement about this story that I will <span>NOT<span> be saying here._ That is all. :)**


	17. Chapter 16

**WARNING: This chapter got dark on me. _Very_ dark. Mature themes ensue. Not so mature that young(er) people shouldn't read it, but mature enough that they should be cautioned. I also don't recommend anyone younger than 13-ish read this, but I'm doubting any of you are that young anyway. Actually 13 might even be a bit young for some of it... (I considered bumping up the rating simply because of this chapter)**

****Yeah, so I know the Moulin Rouge wasn't build until 1889. I'm taking a bit of artistic license. Also, I've never left the States so I've never been to the Moulin Rouge. (It would be rather fun to go, though, wouldn't it?) Ergo I'm making up bit of the interior as I go while still trying to stay with how it apparently looks.****

**And because they appear: I do not own Ciel Phantomhive nor do I own Lord Death, who appears briefly. Ciel is property of Yana Toboso and Lord Death is property of Martine Leavitt.**

* * *

><p>Erik was acutely horrified when I came downstairs as Ciel Phantomhive. It was amusing actually; he was more affected then Bridgit had been. Did he not think I would leave the house dressed this way? Actually...yeah...he probably bought the outfit with the intention that I only wear it at home. I couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. It had never dawned on him that I may have to dress as a guy to get into the Moulin Rouge. In fact I doubted he even knew what the Moulin Rouge was.<p>

We stepped down in front of the infamous red windmill amid a sidewalk full of people. Crap, I should of thought of how busy it would be and how awkward he would feel in such a crowded place. I wound my way through the crowd, not paying a bit of attention as to whether or not Erik was following me. More than likely he had already ninja-ed into the place and was waiting on me.

"The most private table you have, if you please." I said to the man seating people. "For Earl Phantomhive and guest."

He didn't recognize the name (and why should he?) but he did recognize the title. I was seated near the stage, my back to the audience. A couple extra francs slipped to the man guaranteed that no one else would be seated at our table. Honestly, I was shocked that nothing had been said about a young boy coming to see the show.

A bottle of champagne had just been dropped off when Erik appeared in the seat next to me. I expected a snide comment about the garish decor of the place but he didn't say anything. Maybe he was just content to enjoy a night out? With him that wasn't very likely. He was probably looking forward to ripping the show apart.

Erik started to say something and I shushed him as the show began. Within the first fifteen minutes he was staring at me incredulously. Had I forgotten to mention that the Moulin Rouge was basically a dance hall full of strippers? Oops. My bad.

"Where have you brought me?"

"Laaa la la la la la la-" I sang along to the can-can. "Hmm? Sorry, what?"

"What _is_ this place?"

"A cabaret with a heavy dose of gentleman's club."

"And you see no problem with this?"

"No, why should I? Strip clubs are extremely common back home. Did you forget I dressed as a stripper for you?" _That could be taken awkwardly._"The way I see it burlesque is an art form. Stripping, however, is tasteless and cheap."

"They're the same thing, Elizabeth."

I snorted. "Hardly, Erik. Stripping is removing all your clothing and dancing around a pole for money. Burlesque is performing a sexy and erotic dance without necessarily removing all of your clothing. Now hush, the burlesque girls are coming on."

Two girls (women really) walked on stage trailing feather boas. Wolf whistles erupted as the girls revealed themselves to be scantily clad, reminding me of home. Men will always be men. As they removed more and more layers Erik became more and more horrified. When I turned to say something to him after the act he was nowhere to be found. Why was I shocked? Erik was, if anything, a prude.

I didn't bother asking someone if they had seen him. He was the Phantom, you didn't see him unless he wanted you to. Sighing, I left our table and went in search of him. Knowing Erik he could be anywhere, even backstage. Hopefully he had stayed in the public areas. I really didn't want to try getting back there. Eventually I gave up searching inside the building and went outside.

I didn't see him anywhere on the sidewalk but then again I hadn't really expected to. The only logical places for him to be would be the roof or the alley. Seeing as I'm not a huge fan of heights the alley was the first place I was going to check.

"Erik! There you are!" I called down the alley to the shadowy figure leaning against the wall. "Sorry if-"

"I ain't no Erik, kid."

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry." I said, blushing. "I was looking for my friend. He ran out of the show. So sorry to bother you."

"Where d'ya think yer goin? 'M thinkin you should give me yer money."

"But I haven't got any money." I said, backing down the alley.

"Dressed like that comin outta there? Money. Now."

He grabbed me roughly and I screamed. Why couldn't I think things through? If I had only paid attention I would have known it wasn't Erik. Why would he be leaning against a filthy wall? And furthermore, why would he have allowed someone to see him from that far away?

"Please! Let me go! I...I'm female! Une femme! Une femme! Por favor..." I cried, speaking a mix of French, Spanish, and English in my panic. _Spangich? Frepanglish?_

"Female, eh?"

I. Am. An idiot. Oh good idea, Elizabeth! Tell the man robbing you that you're female! That'll get him to leave. He'll just let go, apologize for inconveniencing you, and be on his way. Not.

His hand moved from my arm to grope at my chest and he drug me farther into the dark alley. With a hand clamped over my mouth he started tearing at my clothing. For once I was glad to be in so many layers. If nothing, the slowed him down a little.

He tore the binding from my chest and threw it over his shoulder. Grubby hands roamed over my now-freed bust, groping harshly. I cried softly as fingers fumbled with the fastenings of my trousers, knowing I was lost. My fear of the stagehands seemed like a distant memory. At least at the Opera there would have been some hope of being saved.

"How disgusting." A voice said from the mouth of the alley.

_There was someone there. There was someone there!_ A bit of hope swelled inside me and I fought against my attacker. He cursed as I bit his hand and gave me the chance I needed.

"Help!" I screamed. "Aidez-moi!"

Silence. My potential savior hadn't stuck around. I cried out as my attacker's hand connected with my cheek. He muttered something low in my ear before going back to accosting me. I hadn't caught most of what he'd said but it was obvious he was threatening me. Perhaps I would be better off if I just laid here and took it. Perhaps it would be over faster.

Feet pounded down the alley toward me, not that my attacker noticed. Hope bubbled in my again and I renewed my struggles. If I could keep him at bay until whoever was coming reached me I might have a chance. Then again I might be worse off. I'd deal with that when the time came.

"Unhand the lady, you cad!"

If I wasn't so grateful for assistance I would have snickered at someone calling someone else a 'cad'.

"Bugger off! Me an' me girl just havin' a wee bit of fun." _Liar._

"I want to hear it from the lady."

Something cold pressed against my throat. "Go on, _love_."

"I...I-I want you to...to...to be a superhero." I stuttered, praying my rescuer would understand what I was trying to say.

"Wot?"

"Elizabeth..."

Oh thank god! It was Erik. At the same time I realized I was safe the cold metal at my throat drug from one side to the other. Warmth gushed from my neck, dripping to the ground. I gasped, grabbing at my neck in an attempt to find out just how much damage had been done.

My attacker took off down the alley but I paid him no mind. I was busy pressing my hand to my throat, trying to stop or at least slow down the bleeding. Even as I tried I knew it was no use; the gash was too long and too deep. Had I been at home it was still just as unlikely that I'd survive.

Erik sank to his knees beside me and yanked his jacket off. Despite my weak attempts he pressed the fine wool against the gaping wound. It was a shame that he was ruining his lovely jacket, really, but neither of us thought anything of it. I was incredibly touched that he was trying to do everything he could to save me. My hand sought out his and our eyes met in the dim light. I wasn't going to survive and we both knew it.

"I'm...sorry." I croaked. "For...everything."

There was so much I'd done to him since I came here. So much I should've never done. I didn't regret forcing him out of his shell but that was about the end of it. Arguing with him all the time, dragging him out of his snug home, putting him in danger at the Masquerade, forcing him to come face to face with Christine again, torturing him a bit with his past, running from him; I regretted it all.

"Shhh," He murmured. "don't talk. You'll be fine."

I shook my head. "Erik-"

"No Elizabeth. Don't say goodbye." He pressed a light kiss to my hand. "You're not going to die."

There was one thing, however, that I regretted most of all. No matter what happened to me - and what was happening was inevitable - he had to know.

"Should've...told you."

"I can't loose you." He sobbed. "Elizabeth...I can't..."

Erik disintegrated into a crying heap, clutching my hand to his chest. I clung to the thread of life as my breathing became shallower. I couldn't die, not yet. Not until I told him. I couldn't go with the regret hanging over me.

"Erik" I rasped.

"Don't speak. Save your strength."

"Quiet...have to...tell."

"Tell what, Elizabeth?"

"_Shut up_." I said. Couldn't he let me speak? It was difficult enough without him interrupting me every five seconds. "Have to...tell you...Erik...love you."

He gasped, peppering my hand and wrist with kisses. At this point I didn't care what he did so long as he didn't leave me here. He, the angel of death, was my sole companion as I waited for his master to fetch me. In a world where I only really knew one person it was that one person whom I wanted with me. To be honest, I was scared to death (no pun intended) and this insane man made me feel safe. Well, safer.

Dying had a way of making you realize things you were too frightened to face hours prior. Why had I ignored and denied my feelings for him? Now that I wasn't being an idiot we had no time. Perhaps we had never even been meant to have a chance. I could see why Erik hated whatever god existed; anything good that happened to him was too little too late. Damn my cowardice.

How long we sat in that alley I don't know. How long I had left I had a better idea of. It wasn't long. I couldn't feel my legs anymore and was starting to loose feeling in my hands. Somehow I thought death would be more dramatic than this. Where were the weeping children? The howling dogs? I was nothing if not melodramatic.

Footsteps echoed down the alley and Erik's cat-eyes snapped to the newcomer. Myself, I couldn't find it in me to even move my head. The newcomer bent over me and stared at both of us confusedly. His dark eyes burned into my soul and I was afraid of who's presence I was in. This had to be Erik's master, the great Death.

"What on earth are you doing down there? Come on, get up. We need to be going Elizabeth." _Huh?_ "Lord only knows what she'll do to me if I'm late getting you home."

"Speaking for Elizabeth, just who the hell are you?"

"Ah, forgive me. I am Lord Death." He said, sweeping a low bow.

I choked, partially in shock and partially because I couldn't breathe. Lord Death? What the hell, was this turning into some form of cross-over universe? Then again, there _was _Madame Bovary...

He straightened and frowned down at me.

"You're just fine, you know. It's all in your head." He knelt down and swiped his entire hand across my throat. No blood stained his hand or fine jacket. "It's not really there. You're not bleeding. You're not choking. You're able to talk."

What the hell was he talking about? What home was he wanting to take me to? Why hadn't blood been all over him? It was certainly all over Erik and I. My head was starting to hurt from thinking so hard. I couldn't have much more time; I was so cold and so tired.

Fed up with me apparently ignoring him, Lord Death scooped me up in his arms and started carrying me down the alley. I managed a pitiful whine and reached out for Erik. I didn't know what was on the other side of that glowing light I was being carried into but I knew I didn't want to go.

Heaven? Couldn't be. I didn't believe in that sort of stuff. Perhaps...perhaps he was really taking me home. I mean, not home but _home_. Could this trauma have triggered a way for me to go back home? It was the only possible explanation.

I became unreasonably excited at the prospect of finally - finally! - going back to my home. To see my kittens again, to surf the internet mindlessly, to have my Blackberry back in my pocket, to take photos with my camera, to be able to read _manga_! Oh, it was almost too much to handle.

The present jolted me back sharply in the form of a hand wrapping itself around my wrist. _Erik..._

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah...feel free to kill me. I did some evil things in this chapter. *ducks rotten tomatoes* At least I didn't drag it out for a million chapters.<strong>

**And in case you're confused, Masquerade is now finished. *ducks more rotten fruit/vegetables***

**I _really_ hope those of you who know of my next project will understand why I need a bit of a break before I start it. I need to put myself in the mindset of someone else for awhile and stock up on some things I'll need. *ducks heavy objects* How long of a break this will be I don't know. And no throwing sharp things! **


	18. Important Author's Note

Hey guys. I'm not dead, I swear. See? Heartbeat and everything. I wanted to let you guys know what's going on and why I (still) haven't published the Masquerade sequel. It shall come out, I swear.

When I said I wanted to take a break between the two stories I never intended for it to be this long of one. Month, month and a half tops. I wanted to work on a few non-writing projects and they got a bit out of control. On top of that this semester got real hectic fast.

I can't give you a timeline of when it will come out, but it will. In the next three weeks I've got an Anatomy lab practical, Psychology paper, huge speech, Anatomy lecture test, and finals. After that I'm going to start working hardcore on refinishing some furniture (thus earning money) at my father's over the summer. He doesn't have internet but I'll have my laptop and will post chapters when I'm home. Lord knows I'll have down time while I wait for stain, finish, and (in some cases) paint to dry.

Don't give up on me yet! I do want to write the sequel and Erik and Elizabeth are impatient to really start working on it. Okay...that makes it sound like I haven't written anything. I have. Just nothing that's amounted to a whole chapter.

~Miss Cullen -I wish-


End file.
